m001: FULLMETAL
by liliwick the WORD
Summary: AU. Out of the blue and into his perfect life of reinforcing praises, endless romantic dates and stunning female persocoms, there came that distinctive flaw which threw off his equilibrium – Edward arrived. Eventual Roy/Ed. CH-18 UPDATED.
1. Prologue

NOTE:** This chapter has been revised again as of 17/05/2013.  
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Now what am I doing here? I should be working on my YGO fanfic. But yeah. This story's been up on MediaMiner and it seems that some people liked the story ... but anyway, listen up! This plotbunny formed in my mind when I recently read a bit of a Chobits manga book. Bear in mind that I have a VERY VAGUE knowledge on how the Chobits world works (because I am quite new to it - so if I do something wrong, I'm very, very sorry -bows-) and I have no clue whatsoever about computers so forgive if I used the computer terms wrong. Also that I've just used elements of Chobits with this story so the persocoms here not just look like humans but animals as well (as you will find out).

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE and also a SHOUNEN-AI. I haven't had much of the story formed yet … the prologue is done for now. I like the storyline of this a lot – but I'm not sure if you do. Please tell me what you think of this story, k?

I really hope you like it! -

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**m001: FULLMETAL  
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**- Prologue- **

_(Revised 17/05/13)_

The model was nearly complete. Gilleroy Creator stepped back from the workbench, examining his latest invention. Scratching his bearded chin, he looked over to his persocom, Lyrary, to check the progress. Downloading programmes … progress complete. Adding new features … downloading complete. He pulled out a connection cord that was attached to a supercomputer at one side of the wall of the lab and inserted it into the port of his invention, nodding in satisfaction when he heard a faint click as the systems began running for system identification. Creator shot a glance at his computer screen, clicking on programmes with a wireless mouse, nodding briefly as each process was complete. Finally after minutes of linking wires and uploading information, he pulled out the cords, wiping his brow as he triumphantly looked down at his finally completed persocom.

"Master," the female persocom by his side stepped up to him and spoke in an urgent tone. "The home security systems have been shut down again."

"I see," Creator murmured in response as he continued to survey his invention before him. "That's the third time it's happened. It seems m001's system is so powerful that he is able to break my own security systems without knowing it. Impressive."

"I will turn them back on for you," announced Lyrary and she began just doing that while Creator reached out to touch the new persocom's blonde hair which was soft to the touch. He suddenly spoke, more to himself than the preoccupied Lyrary beside him: "After all these months, he's finally done. The most human-like persocom in the world. I've taken extra precautions to install my most advanced eternity code in him so that no one else, not even himself, can decipher it. I had to revise many different persocom systems just to make the perfect one for him..."

Creator paused, a slight feeling of fear hitting him at the thought of m001 becoming discovered, at the thought of other people discovering m001's underlying abilities. No, he mustn't be discovered by _anyone _at all. This persocom was created for one purpose and one purpose only. The idea of the m00Numbers Project had been engrained in his mind for years now. He had made a pact with his work partner to create the most perfect persocoms the world has ever seen. They had decided to take one step further in their plan not just by enhancing the persocoms' abilities but to make them as human-like as possible.

Very few people knew that Creator could invent persocoms. He was much more well-known as an inventor of Security programmes involving encryption codes and the like. So reliable were his technologies that the Military had made use of his programmes. With money rolling in, he was well-funded yet Creator was a very private person, lived in a small, isolated house with a large underground laboratory. Despite the isolation from society, he never realised that he had enemies lurking about.

**OoOoO**

In a dark alleyway a few miles from the East City centre, a bespectacled man handed a suitcase full of money to the arms of a dark clothed figure.

"You know what you have to do?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent," the spectacled man's lips twisted into a smile. "Once you eliminate Creator, you must bring his personal persocom to me. His own invention. Make sure you take any of his documents and projects and kill anyone else in that house."

"Consider it done," grinned the assassin evilly.

**OoOoO**

m001 was ready to be switched on. Creator had already sent an email to his work partner about m001's completion. Clearing his work desk, Creator pulled out a connection cord from Lyrary's ear port, inserting it into the port under m001's boot and requested for a system switch on. Lyrary nodded as she began to carefully turn on the new persocom's CPU, initiating programmes and software, also providing the key password, linked to m001's eternity code, which would access the persocom's full abilities.

The process took nearly ten minutes. Creator did not move from his seat throughout the session, his eyes fixed on his female persocom. At some point during the process, the house lights flickered, throwing the laboratory into brightness and darkness. Lyrary suddenly paused and looked at her user.

"Master, the home security systems are–"

"Please continue. We'll deal with that later," Creator waved his hand impatiently and the female persocom resumed. Finally, after another few more minutes, m001 began to stir and his eyelids roused and opened, revealing bright golden eyes that matched his hair. Slowly sitting up, his eyes focused on his creator's form and the attractive female persocom beside him.

A satisfied Creator turned to his female persocom. "What do you think, Lyrary?"

Lyrary's eyes travelled up and down the new persocom. "Now that I can see him up close... he looks like–"

"Yes, indeed," hummed the man before m001 spoke in an emotionless voice: "User C logged in … m001 start up."

"Oh!" Lyrary said, surprised. "He's still–"

"I know," Creator said, unplugging the connection cord and stepping back. "Still robot-like. Just like the very first persocom system. Fortunately, I've built him in such a way that he is able to develop on his own. So it will take some time for him to advance into a more human-like mode. m001? User C requests you to stand up."

The new persocom blinked, and hopped off the table, standing straight, "Request accepted. Any more requirements from User C?"

"Yes. User C requests for you do to a systems scanning check."

m001 nodded. "Scanning programme files … loading … complete. All systems working fine."

"That was fast," commented Lyrary.

"Yes. m001 is designed for faster processing speed and therefore faster scans. He's literally quite a creation in the persocom sense."

"What should he do now?" the female persocom asked.

Creator scratched his chin. "Well... perhaps we shall give him simple tasks to get him started, shall we? m001, please clean up this lab in five minutes while Lyrary and I go upstairs for a cup of tea. Afterwards, you must log out, set up the key password but don't shut down."

"Requests accepted," despite the monotonous voice, m001 started to clear up the table with movements gracefully smooth, just like a real human being.

Creator and Lyrary made their way upstairs towards the kitchen. Lyrary looked at her master, "sir, what will you do with m001 after this?"

The inventor sighed, smoothing a strand of dark hair away from his persocom's face. "I'm not sure. Perhaps I should ship him over to Xenotime. Whatever the decision, it is unwise to shut him down because it takes forever to unlock all his passwords again, especially that eternity code. So even if someone else tries to log in under another username, m001 won't operate properly."

He looked sadly at Lyrary. "Since I used you to log in, I need to delete all the files saved about his existence. Could you do that for me, Lyrary? You need to reboot again afterwards and some of your files, including your memory, in the process of heavy deletions will be lost."

Lyrary just smiled, "don't worry, master. I will be fine. I shall perform the actions right away."

The inventor smiled, smoothing the persocom's dark hair tenderly, "that's why I love you, Lyrary."

**OoOoO**

The streets were deathly quiet by the time midnight struck. It was then when the assassin finally made his move. He found himself extremely fortunate when he discovered that all of Creator's security systems had already been shut down. Astounded at such good luck, he sneaked into the house to find Creator actually nodding off on the table, seemingly waiting for his personal persocom to complete whatever she was doing. The female persocom was sitting very still in her chair, her eyes closed and there was a low whirring sound coming from her systems, telling the assassin that she must be performing some sort of action. Smirking again, the assassin crept up behind the dozing Creator and pressed something cool and metallic onto the back of his head.

"Surprise," murmured the assassin and before the inventor could move, he pulled the trigger.

A loud bang echoed loudly around the room, shattering the inventor's skull. Blood spurted everywhere, over the gun and over the dark gloves the man was wearing. The dead man slumped onto the floor and the surge of red liquid stained the marbled tiles. The assassin smirked, pocketing his gun and averted his eyes to the remaining occupant.

The persocom finally stopped whirring before her eyes opened blankly, "File deletion complete … start rebooting …" and her eyes shut again and she remained still. The assassin took the opportunity to reach into his coat to bring out his own persocom notebook – a small robot mouse. He inserted the small computer into the persocom's ear port, letting his notebook connect itself to Lyrary's systems, requesting a hack log-in.

Once actions were done, Lyrary opened her eyes – revealing blank optics suggesting she was in command mode.

"Request for opening Gilleroy Creator's persocom files. Search for locations of any projects, folders or records."

"Search initiated," she spoke blankly. "Search complete … all records found in Creator's laboratory, located downstairs."

"Excellent," purred the man, "now come with me."

They descended the steps and the assassin was lead into the large laboratory. The place was very neat as if it had been recently cleaned. As he looked around, the assassin nearly jumped when he spotted a figure leaning back against an office chair near the supercomputer. A boy with long blonde hair that cascaded down one shoulder, dressed in dark clothes and heavy boots. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be fast asleep. The sight of the breathing body seemed to be the only sign of life.

The assassin pulled out his gun, preparing to fire. Approaching the boy cautiously, he became puzzled when the boy did not react to his footsteps or his movements. He aimed the gun at the boy's head, preparing to shoot but on the last second, decided against it. No, he was going to blow up the estate anyway. Let the explosion kill him. Bullets these days were hard to come by.

As quietly as he could, the assassin copied all file projects from Creator's supercomputer with a portable flash disk. Afterwards, he requested another search for anymore projects from Lyrary and found no more. Smirking and casting one last glance at the unconscious boy by the computer, he and Lyrary made their way back upstairs.

The assassin had left a small bomb by Creator's body. He then left the house with his deliveries, stealing into a nearby getaway car and driving off towards his client's company.

It was not until two miles away that the assassin pressed the detonator button.

**OoOoO**

South City inner suburbs had a lot of black markets.

They sold almost anything. Persocoms, video games, DVDs, hard disks, the latest software (stolen of course), all the technology items you can think of. Of course, deals like these, however cheap, weren't so good quality.

One such black market group received a new model one morning. It was delivered into their base in a tightly sealed box. As the order rolled in through the doors, the employees raised their eyebrows curiously at the arrival of their latest product.

"Where you get it this time?"

"Found it," replied one of the deliverers. "You know Gilleroy Creator's place where that gas leak blew it up? Yeah, since it's now a pile of trash and everything, some of us found this persocom still working – think it's one of his inventions, didn't know the guy could make persocoms. But anyway, it's not in bad shape – Don' look like the normal sexy chick or anything – but it'll fetch a good price."

The lid of the box was pried open. The deliverer lifted the persocom out of the box and laid it on the floor, stepping back to let his colleagues study it.

'It' looked like a short teenaged boy. Covered in soot and ash, clothes torn and tattered, its long blonde hair messy and tousled, it could have looked like a real human being if it weren't for the metal arm and leg showing out of the torn artificial skin coat. Its eyes were shut and it was somehow breathing.

"Hell …" muttered one of the black market employees. "He looks so real …"

"Tell me about it," snorted the deliverer. "He seems to be switched on … but he can only work if you provide the correct username to log in."

"Well why haven't you?"

"Because, stupid," snapped the man, "he's malfunctioned. There seemed to be some error in him that won't let any log-ins. That explosion musta screwed him up."

"How are we going to sell him then if he doesn't work?"

"Oh no, he _works _alright …" the man replied. "We'll make him work. We just need Chrono to try to hack into him, log in and make a few adjustments to his systems."

"Yeah … we need to name him as well. I don't think you brought the nametags to this one, have you?"

The man shook his head. "The place where we found him was pretty busted … so no, we don't know his model name."

"So make one up already!"

The man looked at the persocom for a while, thinking deeply while scratching his chin. His eyes settled on the shiny dull metal limbs. His lips stretched into a smile.

"Fullmetal. We'll call this model, Fullmetal."

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**(end chapter)**

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Oooh… and what have we got here? Ed's a persocom? Tsk, tsk. It's just a matter of time until we meet the one he's destined for. I _could _tell you that in the next chapter, our Roy's in it and he's about to do a little shopping … ;)

So … what do you think? Good? Bad? (I know I'm bad at the computer terminology thing -cringes-) Review?


	2. One

NOTE**: This chapter has been revised as of 17/05/13.**

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Hello! I'm back with this chapter! I can't believe my inbox was filled with these review alerts! I wasn't meant to post the story up but .. okay! -shrugs-.

Anonymous reviewers' responses (since I've already replied for Signed):

**Anime#1Fan**: You're my very first reviewer! I'm very glad you like my story. It never occurred to me that there hasn't been an FMAChobits crossover fics. I guess it's cool to see I might be the first one to try. Thanks for reviewing!

**Phoenix**: The first FMAChobits crossover you read, huh? Hmm.. same again.. Delighted you liked it at my very first try of anime crossovers. I hope I didn't get anything wrong. I'm not yet into real depth with the FMA and Chobits storylines much.

**Jebby**: Thanks! I _did _say there was a possibility of slash, did I? Well … when it comes to FMA, all I could think of is the EdRoy pairing because I just adore them with no apparent reason whatsoever. So.. there would definitely be some EdRoy moments in here!

For everyone else, thanks a bunch for your reviews! They make me so happy! And also everyone else who read and (I hope) enjoyed it. I'm dedicating this chappie to all of you and I'll even throw in these! –showers reviewers with sparkly, expensive Christmas presents- :D

Alright… here's Roy! Well, forgive if he seems a little … pervertish… but I made him like this for a reason. There will be little surprises in this chappie (and I _hope_ they don't disgust you in any way). I STILL have a vague knowledge on how the Chobits world works so bear with me here. Anyway, enjoy reading this chapter – and like I said, leave me a comment/review on how I did this chapter, k?

Disclaimer: Forgot to do this last chapter – again. Not owning FMA or Chobits. Will be nice to have an official deed with their rights given to me on Christmas day though.

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**-1-**

Roy Mustang grinned as he eyed his persocom, Gina, up and down. He had her dressed in a skimpy French Maid outfit when she came in with a tray of breakfast to his bed. Roy absolutely loved the persocom's curvy façade. Gina deposited the tray in front of him.

"Your breakfast, master."

"Thank you, Gina. Why don't you snuggle up with me and feed me some toast?"

"Of course."

He scooted over, letting the humanoid computer sit next to him. She began feeding him his buttered toast. Roy laid back lazily as he gazed wolfishly at Gina.

"How about info on today's weather?" he asked.

Gina smiled and nodded, "requesting Central News website – weather webpage … today's temperature is 10˚C with mild sunshine and small showers in the afternoon."

Roy groaned. "I was hoping for a storm so I don't need to go to work today. Maybe I can fake being sick or something."

His persocom looked alert, "you have one new message. Shall I open it?"

Roy looked at Gina with a small expectancy that the e-mail was sent from the office. "Let's hear it then."

"Opening message … _Sir, I'd like to remind you that today is the meeting with the board of directors. So take note that you should be present and don't you dare think about skiving off … _end message. E-mail sent by Riza Hawkeye, time sent: 0750 hours."

Roy groaned again, rubbing his head. Ah … work. He just didn't expect the unexpected when he picked this job in a high-tech gadget company. He was one of the chiefs of the company's departments. He loved new technology and gadgets. He loved being around it – loved being a part of it … but most of the stuff he did in his job was paperwork. And he hated paperwork.

But Roy Mustang had a dream and it was this dream that had pushed him to remain working in the company for years. One day, he told himself he would become the CEO of the company.

Despite holding such high ambitions, as a person, Roy Mustang was perhaps the biggest bragger of the company, who held a high opinion of himself, was an unapologetic womanizer and was infamous for spending his money unwisely on new persocom models. Roy liked being the first one to get the latest models. With each new season, he spent thousands of Centz buying the newest and latest persocom models with brand new features and sold off his previous models to second-hand shops.

Once Gina finished feeding her user, Roy moodily dragged himself out of bed and stalked into the bathroom while Gina went off to collect his suit. Roy studied himself in the mirror and saw a handsome thirty-year-old man with dark hair and dark eyes smirking back at him.

"Your suit is ready, sir," Gina announced behind him with a smile.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, he grinned, "how about joining me in the shower, Gina?"

"Whatever you say, sir."

**OoOoO**

He was in his office, as usual, sorting out the ever-growing piles of paperwork laid out on his desk. A portion of his attention was on typing up the reports on his computer, another portion was occupied by the mere mass of so many files and figures scattered across his paper-strewn desk and the remaining portion had wandered to the notion of how Gina would look like if he bought her some new lingerie.

There was a knock on the door and he sat up straight, straightening his tie, running a hand though the dark locks in order to make it appear more messy yet attractive. The door opened and his secretary, Riza Hawkeye, walked in with an arm full of papers. Roy automatically plastered on a charming grin which faded slightly when he saw someone else trot in behind Hawkeye, his tail wagging slightly. Ah, Black Hayate, Hawkeye's persocom dog. Whenever Hawkeye caught him slacking off, she would send Black Hayate after him and even for a machine, that computer dog sure bites hard.

"Hawkeye," Roy said, maintaining a serious tone.

Hawkeye eyed his papers, wrinkling her nose slightly at the messy desk. "Are you done with those files yet, sir?" There was a warning in her tone and from the corner of his eye, he could see Black Hayate's gaze on him. Roy gulped, proceeding to gather up his sorted out papers into a pile, holding it out to his secretary, "I've done this one. I'll be finished with the next by lunchtime."

Riza took a look at the papers she received and nodded. "Sir, your meeting is in five minutes. I advise you to go upstairs to the conference room before it starts."

"Oh," Roy scratched his head, almost forgetting about the e-mail that was sent to him this morning. "I'll go now then."

He passed Hawkeye by the door, carefully avoiding Black Hayate blinking innocently up at him at her heels and he quickly got into the transparent glass elevator that lead him up to the conference halls. He straightened his tie again and checked his suit, trying to appear smart. If he was hoping to get a promotion (hopefully a quick one), he had to make sure he looked his best. After all, it wasn't too hard to get people wrapped around his finger. With the exception of Riza Hawkeye who wouldn't fall for his obvious flirting.

The doors of the elevator halted to a stop halfway up to the conference halls on the 32nd floor and he groaned when the doors slid open, letting in Maes Hughes. The man was roughly a few months older than him, with dark hair, one lock falling across his forehead, a small stubble and intelligent green eyes hidden behind smart glasses. He grinned widely when he recognized Roy. The elevator continued to ascend to the 32nd floor.

"Hey Roy, how's it going? Did I tell you that Gracia just had a haircut yesterday? She looks absolutely beautiful! Ain't that right, Elicia?" he cooed, turning to the small, cute persocom perched on his shoulder. She was a portable notebook, her hair was a mixture of blonde and brown held up in high bunches and she had large green eyes that matched her user's ones. Elicia giggled, bouncing up and down Hughes' shoulder, "Yay, yay, yay! Mommy Gracia got a haircut and she looks purdie!"

Hughes patted Elicia's head, "isn't my little Elicia just so cute? I got her a little dress the other day and even Gracia thinks she looks adorable in it. I think I have some pictures right here …"

"Oh what do ya know," Roy loudly interrupted when the elevator shuddered into a halt. "This is my stop. Sorry for leaving, Maes, I got an important meeting with a board of directors –"

Hughes got off with him, grinning widely, "as a matter of fact, I'm invited too! Now where was I? Oh yes … Elicia, will you please kindly show Mr. Mustang the digital pictures I took of you and Gracia yesterday? Great! Now in this one, Roy, Elicia's just off to send an e-mail with a picture attachment of Gracia's new haircut to her sister ..."

Roy mentally groaned as they entered the filling conference room with Hughes still going on about his family pictures and Elicia bouncing excitedly on his shoulder.

Well this was going to be a long day.

**OoOoO**

"You're joking! They're already released?"

It was lunchtime and Roy had left the office building to pop over to the local Starbucks to grab himself some lunch. Purchasing a tuna sandwich and a strong cup of coffee, he had sat himself next to a work colleague, Jean Havoc, who was currently buried into the monthly gadget magazine, an unlit cigarette between his lips and his half-eaten salad box forgotten.

Roy had uttered the disbelieved statement to Havoc when the blonde man announced that the latest model of persocoms had recently been released just last night.

"And would you look at these babes," Havoc laughed, pointing to an image of one of the persocoms. The new models were called the BEach models and the particular one they were studying was wearing a blue swimsuit showing off her attractive curves. Roy felt himself smirk, cocking his head sideways to examine the persocom further. These were far the most attractive versions he had seen.

Havoc scanned through the models' features, proclaiming each one out loud to the superior worker. A better and faster connections ability, more firewalls to prevent virus attacks, a larger storage system to hold music, video, photo files, the advancements to the persocoms to appear even more real-like … Roy was liking this more and more. Yes … he _had _to get one of these BEach models.

Of course, getting a new persocom meant having to remove Gina. He often questioned himself why he always got rid of his old persocoms when he planned to buy new ones. He always settled with saying that his old persocoms were better off being bought by another owner. He knew it sounded heartless … but these were persocoms and they didn't have emotions. He was fond of Gina and he knew that it would be sad to see her go … but it was always in a couple of days that he would get back to his old self.

He looked down at the picture of the swimsuit-wearing persocom and smirked again.

**OoOoO**

It was past five and he had hurriedly rushed out of the office towards the Central Parishes – an outdoor shopping walkway where he quickly dashed into the nearest Dioxins, an electronics and gadgets shop. Inside he spied hundreds of items of electronics, from Plasma TV screens to home gadgets and appliances to humanoid and animal persocoms displayed in aisles.

Roy was greeted by a shop assistant and he gratefully accepted his help offer, instantaneously shooting off his request.

"I'm looking for a new persocom. The latest ones from Hinoba Industries … the BEach models?"

The shop assistant grinned toothily, "oh those hot honeys, huh? Well, due to their rising popularity, I'm afraid we've all sold out, sir."

"What?" Roy panicked, trying hard not to believe his ears. He was _always _the first one to buy new models.

"I'm very sorry, sir. We just sold the last one about five minutes ago. Oh and there's the lucky customer now," he pointed towards the door where a pompous businessman was leaving the shop, chuckling merrily as his new BEach model persocom, a gorgeous bikini-wearing blonde in an overcoat, strolled beside him with a smile on her face at her new master's joke.

Roy felt a stab of anger and jealousy engulf him. He fiercely turned to the sales assistant, a small flush in his face and calmly said, "will you be having any more new models in stock tomorrow?"

"Hmm …" the small man scratched his chin. "Let me find that out for you." He clicked on the small earphone attached to his ear and a small muffled voice sounded from it. Taking out a small palm pilot and digital pen, he wrote Roy's request down before e-mailing it to the shop's product manager. The muffled voice in his earphone spoke again and the assistant nodded as he turned to Roy.

"There will be no more shipments for the next couple of days, sir. Apparently, many models have been sold that we are forced to place a new shipment order from Hinoba Industries. Although there is a possibility that you can order the model directly from the Hinoba Industries website but it'll cost you a lot more than buying it in store."

"Alright, I think I may do that, thanks for your help."

"No problem. Thank you for shopping with Dioxins Electronics, sir."

Roy marched out of the store, his mind deciding on one thing and one thing only.

He was about to do some online shopping tonight.

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**end chapter**

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And what have we learned in this chappie? That Black Hayate and Elicia are persocoms? Yikes! I apoligise if Black Hayate doesn't seem 'in character' because I've never seen him in any episodes of FMA yet (I'm still up to Episode 12! Oh the shame!). I thought the 'Elicia being a persocom' sounds like a cool idea. Just think of her in a chibi-fied version. She's actually based on 'Plum' who belongs to whatshisname from Chobits! I thought if Maes Hughes was so obsessed with Elicia and whatshisname (from Chobits) was obsessed with Plum, I put two and two together and got this!

Again… my computer terminology usage was bad… urgh.. anyway. Next chapter is Roy's exploits on on-line persocom shopping! Will there finally be an appearance of Ed? Stay tuned to find out!

Oh yeah, review?


	3. Two

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 27/09/09**

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-Cheers for joy-

Sorry for the late update! I was so busy during Christmas. Hope everyone had a good new year! Anyways … I'M BACK! WITH A NEW CHAPTER! Yay for all of you! I've actually written a longer version of this chapter but I cut it down 'cos I thought it was a bit too long. So … (anonymous) review replies!

**Anime#1Fan: **Thanks for reviewing again! I'm sorry for late update! Please forgive! –gives cookies- Heh … this is your lucky day … because ED MAKES AN APPEARANCE! W00t!

**Phoenix: **ditto as well! Ed's here! Hope you enjoy it!

**And to everyone else: **you are all so lovely people! I wish I could give all of you something else. Do super cute chibi Ed plushies count? X3

Other comments/warnings or whatever … hmm … not that I know of. Still lacking knowledge of the Chobits world … but … whatever. Enjoy! (and review if you like!)

**

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-2-**

"Hmm… she's hot …" he averted his eyes to the next model. "She's even hotter."

It was already past midnight. He was absolutely exhausted from the mass of paperwork from the office. But his dark eyes were alert and he was determined to get that persocom no matter what. He had been browsing through the internet for hours now, stopping several times to study the products displayed. Strangely, the prices were not displayed with it but … that didn't matter. Roy had plenty of money, right?

He was using Gina to help him. He had pulled out a cord from her earport and connected it to his plasma screen monitor in his room. The dark eyes had been fixed solely on the glowing screen for the past hour and grey circles were beginning to form from tiredness of the long day.

But Roy didn't care. He was determined. Whatever he desired, he would get it – in any process necessary. Hell, even if he turned up to work looking like a zombie, he'd still have his sexy new persocom to cuddle next to in bed, right?

After opening new webpages to view the products, he finally requested Gina to stop when his eyes were drawn on an extremely attractive blonde persocom. His eyes widened and he felt a smirk play in his lips. Well, well, well … she looks a little like … Riza Hawkeye …

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts of a Riza Hawkeye look-alike persocom sleeping in his bed, he straightened in his seat and turned to Gina, a smug grin on his lips.

"Gina … she's the one."

The humanoid computer studied the screen, a small uneasy pout on her lips, "are you sure, sir?"

"Positive."

Clasping her hands together as if concentrating, she murmured as she began the process of calculating the overall price. The result appeared on screen.

"_What_ the hell –" Roy stared at the screen while his persocom smiled slightly at the way Roy was gaping in disbelief. "That's a lot of … a lot of .. _zeros_."

"Apparently, buying the BEach model in store costs lower than directly from the producers. Direct order is a more commonly used procedure for millionaires and celebrities," Gina informed.

Roy scratched his head, feeling disappointment sink into him. So much for that. First the store – and now this? How bad was his luck beginning to get?

Gina looked at Roy curiously. Seeing the persocom's eyes on him, he smiled a little, reaching over to stroke Gina's soft earport. "It's nothing, Gina. I'm alright."

The humanoid computer tilted her head a little, "does Master really want to buy this new persocom?"

Roy somehow got the hidden hint in those words. A small feeling of guilt rose and he looked away for a moment. He cared for Gina, yes. But just as before, she was better off being bought by someone else than him. Roy let his fingers play with the persocom's brown locks.

"It's not that you're of no use to me, Gina. You helped me a lot. Hell, I wouldn't even drag myself out of bed if it weren't for you. I'd be really lonely in the house on my own. But … I think you'd be happier with someone else than me, okay? You understand?"

It was a moment before she nodded. She liked her master and seeing him in this state bothered the persocom a bit. She wanted to help him just one last time before she was going to leave. Although she knew her master deserved something more than _that_.

Scanning through numerous pages in her search engine, she raised her eyes to Roy's and said, "master, I might suggest you could buy a model from a Black Market dealer. I've found two BEach products they have on sale."

Roy was taken aback from the sudden aid. He took her by the shoulders, his heartbeat racing with hope and excitement. "Let me see."

Two images of two BEach persocoms came into view – and one of them was the model he wanted!

Yes. His luck was beginning to look up.

A grin broke into his face. "How much?" was his next words.

Gina looked up the prices, "Eleven thousand, four hundred and seventeen Centz. Not including posting and packaging."

The grin grew bigger. "I'll take her."

Gina nodded, closing her eyes as she began the process of placing the order. Satisfied, Roy laid back against his seat as he considered his purchase, not taking account of the hidden smirk formed on his persocom's lips.

**OoOoO**

Today was the day Gina was about to be switched off. He had saved all his personal files in a small disk. Now that his data was secured in a little disk leaflet, Gina was now ready to be turned off.

Gina was still wearing the French maid outfit Roy loved. They were by the door, waiting for the delivery man to take her away. They were silent throughout the wait, broken only by slight shuffling from Roy trying to maintain his nerves.

"Master?"

Roy looked down at his pretty persocom and gave her a smile, "yes, Gina?"

Gina smiled back, folding her hands together in front of her dress. "I hope you are happy with your new persocom."

Roy let out a sigh, squeezing the small clasping hands. "I'll miss you, you know."

"And I will, too."

There was the sound of a car pulling up outside. He peeked out of the curtains and saw a van. "This is it, then," he announced, drawing back to look at Gina. She nodded in acceptance.

As the sound of footsteps approached the door, Roy smirked, leaning over to place a light kiss on Gina's lips. "Alright Gina, shut down and good luck."

She nodded again, smiling, and closed her eyes, "logging off … system shut down …"

There was a knock on the door. He opened it to see a broad-shouldered man with a moustache. The delivery man raised his baseball cap, "is this her then?"

He nodded as he watched Gina being collected and carried back to the van. Roy sighed, feeling part guilt and part excitement.

Two days will come soon enough, right?

**OoOoO**

Actually, two days seemed like a long time. He was dead bored at home, preferring to go out for a drink with Havoc, occasionally falling victim to Hughes' enthusiastic boasting about his wife and his persocom, Elicia. The piles of paperwork seemed to have grown steadily on his desk and twice, Hawkeye had caught him dozing off. He had received a bitten thumb from Black Hayate's mechanical teeth. He would just _love _to give that robot mutt a good kicking but he knew better than to piss Hawkeye off.

When finally, after forty-eight hours of waiting, he returned back to his apartment one afternoon to find a large tightly sealed box, with a label showing his address on it, sitting in front of his doorstep. He felt his heartbeat rise in excitement and a smile creep across his lips.

She's here.

Pulling out his house keys as he inserted them into the keyhole, his eyes fell onto the package. _Finally, this was it_, he decided as he pushed the door open, dropping his keys back into his pockets, not bothering to take his coat off as he dragged the box into his living room. Settling comfortably onto the couch, he ripped the lid off impatiently, brushing the packaging paper away and spotted a flash of gold among the mass of packaging paper.

The smile widened in his lips as he inserted his hands into the box to grasp the persocom and pull it out. Funnily, it was slightly heavy. He paused for a moment to reposition his grip under the hidden persocom's shoulders. He lifted upwards, expecting a slim, curvy female figure to appear as he raised her out of the box.

But he wasn't expecting a limp teenaged blonde boy in her place.

"ARRGGHHH!!!" he screamed, letting go as the boy slumped against the sides of the box, his eyes shut as his body appeared to move as if he was sleeping.

Taking a few steps back, a look of horror still crossing his face as his eyes stayed fixed onto the boy's figure, his breathing reduced to gasps as he tried to get his fast heartbeat to calm down.

What … what the HELL??!

It took a few seconds before he could move. Roy was just so … so shocked! He was in a state of disbelief. What on earth was a _boy _doing sealed up in a box? What on earth was he sent to his doorstep? And where the hell was his BEach model?

He approached the unconscious teen, reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder. "H-hey," he was surprised that his voice cracked. He was _still _recovering from the shock, period. "Hey …" his voice was stronger, more controlled as he shook the boy's shoulder harder. The teen didn't even budge. "Wake up, kid! What are you – dead or somethi–" words failed him when his eye caught a small booklet sticking out of the packaging papers he had earlier rustled up. Pulling it out, he flicked through the pages and almost gasped in disbelief.

This kid. Was a persocom.

Once again in shock, the booklet dropped from his fingers, his jaw dropped open as his eyes rested on the blonde teen slumped in the box.

**

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end chapter

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**

GASP! What have we here? Ooh … noticed Gina's sneakiness? Ah … and Roy freaking out a bit looks a bit overdone … I think ... –sweatdrops- … and what? Is that _it _of Ed? Nooo!

Hey ... I did say there will be an _appearance _of Ed. Here ya go. Ed's still in 'stand by' mode by the way so that's why he's 'breathing'. He'll probably be switched on properly in one or two chapters away … oohh.. Sorry if it may seem a long time until Ed wakes up but there's still a few characters that need to be introduced into the scene XD

So … care to drop a comment? –grins-


	4. Three

Alright. So I _did _say that this chapter's update will be in a week but I thought ... to hell with it... I'll just pop this shapter up and let you guys enjoy, eh?

**XXX - **glad you liked it! It's gonna be long this story.. I think.. so there's a problem with writing it all ...

**Anime#1Fan - **I know, she _is _sneaky... I had to think up ONE way for Roy to get Ed. I guess this one's the best one!

**Phoenix - **We'll see more of Ed alright... and thanks for reviewing!

And to everyone else who've read and reviewed ...I love you guys! It makes me so, so happy to hear you comments! I love feedback! And I despise my sister for refusing to give me feedback after she reads my stories (she says there are no comments for them... insignificant child...)

So! What happens after Roy finds out that he got Ed through the post I hear you say? Well ...

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m 0 0 1 : F U L L M E T A L

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**-3-**

Maes Hughes blinked when he saw the disturbingly shocked expression on Roy Mustang's face when the bespectacled man landed on his best friend's doorstep that afternoon. Roy's face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief and with the small bags supported under his eyes for lack of sleep, Hughes was sure Roy resembled a little more like a zombie.

Seeing Hughes at his doorstep with his cute Elicia perched on his shoulder as usual was more than a sign of relief for Roy. He reached out and grabbed Hughes' arm and yanked him into the house, ignoring the man's protests as he led him towards the living room he had temporarily left.

"Roy – hey! What's wrong? Where are you –"

They stopped when they entered the living room where the afternoon's delivery was still sitting in the middle of the room.

Hughes' green eyes widened when they fell onto a blonde boy sleeping in an open box, torn packaging paper scattered across the floor followed by a sprawled paper manual booklet.

He turned to Roy who was still silent, "Um … do you mind telling me what on earth happened in here?"

Roy shrugged his shoulders, scoffing as he mumbled, "I … I don't know what's going on. I'm supposed to have my new persocom today. You know those new BEach ones? And I seemed to have gotten this persocom instead."

"I see …" Hughes scratched his chin before the echo of Roy's words caused him to consider them again. "Wait … did you just say … did you just say that_ this kid is a PERSOCOM?_"

"Yeah," Roy nodded, expecting Hughes to react the same way that he did.

"You're kidding! He looks more real than my darling Elicia!" Hughes moaned, looking at his beloved computer before going over to Roy's delivery, touching the persocom's silky blonde locks.

Roy gaped at Hughes' reaction as he made his way closer to the middle of the room, watching Hughes examine the blonde persocom, listening to Hughes' comparisons with Elicia. As for the cute persocom herself, she was bouncing excitedly on Hughes' shoulder again, her green eyes taking a curious hue as they observed the model before them.

After a few more minutes of chattering, Roy interrupted Hughes by collapsing onto the couch, burying his face into his hands as he let out a muffled whine, "I can't _believe _this! I got the wrong one! What's happening to me? There must be some sort of mistake or something! I didn't order a kid … a boy no less … I wanted a BEach model! The blonde one!"

Hughes stared curiously at Roy, "well … at least this one's blonde you know…"

Roy peeked out from his hands, his eyes narrowed into a glare, "Hughes, you're not making me feel any better."

The bespectacled man sighed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting Elicia bounce off his shoulder to go and inquisitively poke at the new persocom. "Come on Roy, tell me the whole story."

By the time the stressed man finished, Hughes rubbed his chin again, raising an eyebrow at his best friend. "It may all be one big misunderstanding. Maybe someone ordered this model but it got delivered here by mistake."

Roy sat motionless for a few seconds, "… yeah … it could've been …… if my address wasn't posted onto the front of that box."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

Hughes crossed his arms, "they might've put the label on the _wrong box _and sent it to you."

"That's a much better explanation, I think," Roy ran his fingers through his already tousled dark hair. "Still … do you think I can refund it?"

"Possible … but it depends on which store or company you bought him from."

Roy scowled, "I didn't_ buy_ him."

Hughes laughed, holding his hands up as a sign of defeat, "alright, I get your point. Where did you order your original persocom from?"

A stubborn yet guilty look crossed the other man's face as he ran another hand through his hair. "I ordered … from a black market."

A dark eyebrow quirked up as Hughes regarded the guilty look on Roy's face. Usually, only desperate people used _that _tactic. Roy had to be _pretty _desperate to use _that _move. Bad news usually comes when you deal with black markets.

"I'm afraid you can't refund him, Roy."

"WHAT?"

Hughes reeled back slightly from the loud outburst and nodded slightly, "black markets here have a policy about trading. Once you buy, you can't return. Even for damages, distortions, whatever. You buy it, you keep it. End of story."

Roy shook his head in disbelief, his eyes landing on the unpacked box in front of him, "no … no, I _can't_ have him."

"Oh come on, Roy," Hughes coaxed, getting up and turning to the box. He leaned down to lift the persocom out of its package, placing him down in a sitting position, his back resting against the side of the box.

They were able to study the persocom in more detail. Long blonde hair was neatly tied into a braid. He was quite short for his mid-teen appearance. He wore black pants, heavy boots and a loose black jacket.

"He doesn't look half bad, huh Roy?" Hughes smiled as Roy got off the couch to join him.

"He's a cutie! Cutie! Cutie!" Elicia piped up, tugging the new persocom's braid with a tiny hand.

Hughes smiled, "aww … Elicia darling … you're a cutie too! You're just _so_ cute that Daddy can't get enough of you!"

Roy ignored Hughes' coos, continuing to study the persocom before him. The boy's skin was slightly tanned and so real-looking that Roy couldn't help but reach up and touch the persocom's cheek. He found the skin under his fingertips smooth and soft. Running his fingers through the silky blond bangs that hung down the persocom's face, he felt a smug feeling rise in him.

Hey … how about he show off the _most real-looking_, _real-feeling_ persocom, eh? Never mind attractive (not that this kid was hideous, he _was _in a way quite adorable looking unconscious like that), as long as he could show off something new and flashy, everyone would _still _be impressed.

His eye suddenly caught a flash of grey when they swept across the skin around his neck and collarbone. Huh? What was that? Curiosity got the better of him when he began unbuttoning the persocom's jacket.

Hughes stopped paying attention to Elicia for a moment when he saw Roy's actions. Confusion dawned in him, "Roy … why are you undressing …"

Roy uttered a growl of disgust when he pulled the jacket off the persocom to find the torn artificial skin coat at the right shoulder. The entire right arm of the persocom was exposed in its original metal form.

"I don't believe it …" Roy's eyebrows furrowed as a pulsing vein started to throb threateningly at his temple. "Those twitchy bastards …"

Then he began pulling off the persocom's pants.

"Er, Roy!" Hughes called out nervously, trying to persuade him to stop when a left metal leg from knee down was exposed on the persocom.

Hughes could guess that Roy was having a hard time trying not to scream out in frustration.

**To be continued ...**

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Poor Roy.. he's the sort of guy who likes everything perfect.. and this is the first time something screwed up. Heh! Now he's discovered Ed's metal limbs! What will happen next? What will the frustrated dark-haired hero do with his new persocom?

Well.. Elicia _did _highlight something very important .. how adorable our Ed is! -huggles Elicia- So everyone? Enjoyed? Tell me what you think of this chapter! And when is Ed going to wake up you say? Urm... O.o ... well... YOU GOTTA WAIT!

Review! **:3**


	5. Four

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 27/09/09.

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OMG! I'm back! After a request, I will extend this chapter so's this is about 3000 words and below. And I'm glad 'cos this is one difficult yet enjoyable chapter to write! Review replies!

**yay: **yes. I have updated - again! And of course Ed's cute X3

**Anime#1Fan: **(laughs) enjoyed your review! I used the skin replacement idea btw! THANKS A BUNCH! And apprently .. Roy's luck is going to get even worse ...

**Hell's Angel: **Thank you for commenting! I'm glad you liked the idea! It's a little hard to actually try to fuse aspects of FMA and Chobits.. but some things just pop up all of a sudden! THANKS AGAIN FOR YOUR REVIEW!

**new moongirl: **alright already! It's the moment you've all been waiting for!

This chapter (in which I made it long) is dedicated to all my reviewers! You want more action - well, here it is! And for everyone who is reading- ENJOY!

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**-4-**

It had been minutes later before both men decided to break the silence they had been thrown in, in which they had been previously lost in their thoughts.

"You know, maybe I should throw it out –"

"Throw it_ out_?" Hughes stared at Roy. "This is probably the first time that I heard you say that, Roy. You don't usually throw out persocoms."

Roy just crossed his arms, keeping his eyes fixed onto the humanoid computer sitting up against the box. The metal arm and leg gleamed mockingly at him in the light. "Can't you see how broken it is?" he said in a frustrated tone.

Hughes sighed, noting the blinkered tone, "Roy … you don't need to refer him as an 'it', you know."

"Well, _it's_ broken so I don't care _what _I call it!"

Hughes sighed again. Roy was acting childishly stubborn right now, putting on that moody act. Hughes understood that if _he_ was placed into a situation like this, he'd be calm about it and set out to work on solving the problem step by step. But Roy … Hughes looked at the man again. Roy, being totally new to this, had no choice but to sit back and _moan _and wait for something to happen.

"It's no good throwing something like him out. Just keep him, Roy. He might come in handy sometime," Hughes said afterwards.

Roy did nothing but scoff. Keep it? Keep this piece of junk? Why should he? He was supposed to have his BEach model not this … this _kid_. What good can a broken persocom do for him anyway? Be a handy coat hanger or doorstopper or something? Roy studied the persocom again. But this thing looked _so real _though … it would have definitely passed off as a real human being had it not been for those damn metal limbs sticking out of the artificial skin.

Roy wondered even more about the realistic humanoid computer. With this credible appearance, wouldn't this persocom have special programmes and features fitted in with it as well? If so, what sorts were they?

Roy fished the small manual booklet lying sprawled on the floor and looked through its contents.

"Model name … 'Fullmetal'," he read out. He paused, glancing over at Hughes with a frown. "What sort of a name is _Fullmetal_?"

Hughes blinked and looked over the persocom. "I dunno … " a grin started to form in his lips. "But it has a nice feel to it. Considering the metal on him actually," he gestured towards the metal limbs.

The frown on Roy's face remained. Clearly, he was not amused. He resumed his reading, "basic features, yadda yadda yadda … comes with anti-virus programme, a lot of gigabyte space to fill up … " Roy looked at the cover of the booklet. "I don't even _think_ this is an official manual. Those bastard dealers probably made all this crap up. This is hopeless!" Roy threw the booklet onto the floor. Running his fingers into his hair, he sighed heavily.

Hughes reached over and retrieved the booklet, flipping through the pages, his green eyes scanning over the words. "Roy, would you just stop moaning for once. Come on, why don't we switch him on and see what he can do? That's the best thing to do now."

Roy considered it for a moment before he felt some sort of excitement rise up in him. It felt like the last time he first got to switch Gina on when he bought her. There was just something _exciting_ about putting the thing you just had purchased to work.

"Alright," he said, going over to Fullmetal. He brushed back the blond bangs to look for earports but he found none. Instead, in their place were human ears. Roy uttered a small gasp, hardly believing it. He never noticed that this persocom had no earports. No wonder it looked so real.

So if there were no earports, where were the external cords? Where were the ports for connection? How the _hell _did you switch it on?

Roy pondered again. Perhaps this model used the old-fashioned external switch buttons. With the latest persocom models, by connecting the persocom's cords to another system, that other system would switch the persocom on. Along the process, it also efficiently enabled fixing personal user files into the new persocom's database.

"Maes," he called out. "This thing doesn't seem to have any connection ports."

Hughes looked up from the manual. "Really? I don't think he has an external switch button either." Roy scowled, turning back to the persocom and he started examining its body for a connection port.

Fullmetal's body was, in a way, impressive. The artificial skin coating had the realistic texture of human skin and even felt like it. Roy was shocked to find the body warm. Considering that this was a machine, how on earth was the persocom warm if the thing was switched off? Why was its chest heaving slightly up and down as if breathing?

This thing just _couldn't _be a persocom!

After checking over again and again, Roy threw his hands up in frustration, a pulsing vein now visibly throbbing at his temple. "Damn it! I can't find any connection ports! How the _hell _am I supposed to switch it on?! WHY CAN'T I JUST THROW THE STUPID THING AWAY?!"

Elicia squeaked from the loud outburst, burying her face into the back of Hughes' head. Hughes reached up, patting the persocom on the head, "there, there, Elicia honey. Don't worry about Mr. Mustang … he's just very upset…"

"_Upset_?" Roy echoed, not impressed by the calm reaction he was getting from Hughes. "_Upset? _Of _course _I'm upset! I'm MORE than upset! I'm –"

"Roy!" Hughes grabbed the man's arm, stopping him. "Calm down here. Okay, we don't need to keep doing this ourselves. It seems that Fullmetal here is a model we've never come across before. The only way to do this is to get professional help."

"Why can't I just _throw –_"

"ROY!"

"Alright! What sort of professional help?"

"One of the best. And I know _just_ the person to go to."

"Who?"

Hughes grinned, the green eyes behind the square glasses flashed. "Oh you might know … does the name, Rockbell, ring anything?"

"Rockbell? You're asking _doctors _to switch on a persocom?"

"What are you talking about, Roy?" Hughes laughed, patting the man's shoulder. "I mean the Rockbells' daughter, Winry. She's one of the best persocom technicians in Central."

**OoOoO**

About an hour later, Fullmetal was lying on the work surface of Rockbell FiXers, being observed up and down by an excited teenaged girl with long blonde hair. Beside her, her persocom dog, Den, had its front paws on the edge of the table, also analysing the appearance. Roy and Hughes stood behind her, waiting for some feedback.

Winry Rockbell squealed when she poked and prodded the new persocom's cheeks, tugging the blonde bangs and peering closely at his face. "I've never seen one like this before! I think he's custom-made! Look at the fine skin texture and the feel of it! Even the hair is luxuriously soft! I wonder who the inventor is – I'd love to make a model like him! Oooh … I'd sure love to take him apart and see how he was made …"

Hughes scratched the back of his head as a sweat drop slipped down his temple. Perhaps he _shouldn't _have brought Fullmetal to Winry. "Um … that _wouldn't_ be necessary, Winry. We'd just like you to examine him and then perhaps switch him on …" his words trailed off when he figured that maybe the excited girl wasn't listening since she was busy pressing her ear onto Fullmetal's heaving chest.

She straightened up, looking even more excited. "What are you talking about? He's _already_ switched on!"

The completely zoned out, moody Roy standing beside Hughes snapped out of it, "what? Are you saying this _thing_ is already on?!"

Winry nodded, motioning towards Fullmetal's 'breathing' chest. "See the way the chest is moving? And notice how warm he feels? That's his system running and heating up the way a computer's CPU is. The breathing he's doing is for cooling down his systems. He's apparently in 'stand by' mode."

Unable to react to the news delivered, the two men silently exchanged glances. So Fullmetal had been _on_ all this time? Who on earth turned him on? Did he previously had an owner who forgot to switch him off before he was sold off to the black market?

"Anyways," Winry continued as her eyes lingered onto the persocom's metal arm. "About the artificial skin replacement… I don't think I have this sort of skin texture in stock. I highly doubt it was even made worldwide! It's amazing actually since it resembles and even feels like human skin. And the construction of this metal arm is just …" her blue eyes sparkled as she sighed dreamily. Hughes could guess what the teenaged girl was thinking about.

He cleared his throat, "Um… Winry, now that we know he's on, can you please do a systems check to see what he's capable of?"

A suspiciously bright glint flashed in her eyes as she whipped out a connection cord from Den's earport and she expertly inserted it into the underside of Fullmetal's boot.

"Hold on," Roy piped up, taking a step forward. "How did you know the port was _there_?"

Winry just shrugged. "I noticed it when we placed him on the table. I was pretty curious about it too – which was why I was excited about his human ears."

Hughes rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he recalled Winry's reaction when she discovered Fullmetal's ears. That was one incident he never wanted to remember. He definitely trusted Winry from the way she handled Elicia but with Fullmetal … she could be a monster when it came to custom made things. She, herself, built Den although his construction was still incomplete. One limb was still exposed in his original metal state and according to Winry, she was still waiting for the order of a roll of Den's artificial fur coat.

Winry also pulled out a small portable device shaped like a scientific calculator from the pocket of her baggy jeans. She flipped it open to reveal a small screen and some keyboard buttons. Pulling out the device's connection cord, she also inserted it into Fullmetal's port beside Den's cord.

"I'm also doing this manually. Some custom-made persocoms are hard to get into with a normal system. At least I can provide a support if Den doesn't manage to log in." She looked up at Roy, holding out a hand, "give me your user data files."

The man shrugged, pulling the small disk out from his pocket and dropping it onto the open palm. Winry inserted the disk into the device before typing some numbers in to get started. Looking at Den, she nodded, "alright … now log in!"

A white flash across the persocom dog's eyes indicated that he was beginning the processing. A whirring sound emitted from him as they waited. On the table, Fullmetal slept on.

A beep was set off from the portable device as a matrix of numbers ran across the screen. Winry peered closely as her blue eyes glided here and there. She typed in some other numbers as a window opened on the screen. A dialogue box opened, telling her that her request to log in had failed. After several more attempts to access into the persocom's systems, she drew back, sighing heavily.

"I can't seem to get in," she informed the two men. "I can't get into the main system and I can't tell whether he has any data or not. It's almost like he's encrypted with some sort of security password or something."

Roy snorted, seeing the hopelessness of the situation as he crossed his arms, "so it's practically useless. What a waste of my money. Why can't I just throw it out –"

"_Roy_," Hughes shot a glare at him, motioning for Winry to continue speaking.

"But he _is _functional, I can tell you that. I _can _log you in … but as a user, you aren't the computer administrator. Therefore, you can't make any adjustments to his programmes or systems. You can only access to a small portion of his abilities."

She waited for a response from the two men. Hearing nothing from Roy, Hughes elbowed the man. Roy sighed irritably, a pulsing vein throbbing at his temple. "I don't even know _why _I bother since I can only use it for basic – ouch!" he yelped when Hughes elbowed him in the ribs again, this time for his rudeness. "Alright, alright! Just do it then …"

Hughes stood back, smiling triumphantly in having convinced Roy to keep Fullmetal. Winry began the process by typing the keys of the portable device again as Den's eyes flashed and the whirring sound starting up.

"Alright," Winry said, delivering the progress out loud. "I'm typing in your username and a random password that you can change later on and now … I'm logging in as well as fixing in those user data files …" she tapped a few more keys before glancing up at Fullmetal, the two men behind her following her actions. After a few more seconds, a window popped up on the device's screen, indicating that the log-in was complete. Winry pulled out the two cords from the persocom's ports and stood back.

Silence surrounded them as the three people waited. The tension broke when Roy saw one of Fullmetal's fingers twitching slightly . He opened his mouth to speak when the fingers stopped moving. Then the persocom remained still, the chest heaving up and down.

Roy felt the vein throbbing in his temple twitch. Irritably shooting a glare at Winry, he scoffed, "doesn't seem like it's working after all. I guess I was right about _it_ being a piece of junk …"

Hughes frowned at Roy's behaviour again. He guessed that his best friend was delivering the hint towards him. He watched as Roy walked up to Fullmetal, peering at his face as he shot remarks over his shoulder at them.

"I mean … just _look _at it. It's broken, it's malfunctioning, it's useless. Why would I even bother keeping it, Maes? I think it'll be better off recycled as a tin can or something …"

Hughes did not like the 'I told you so' tone Roy was putting on. He quietly spoke, sighing heavily afterwards, "Roy, stop calling him an 'it'".

It wasn't until he finished sighing when he blinked, having spotted the persocom's eyelids rousing before opening slowly.

"And another thing," Roy continued. "_It_ is just …" his words trailed off when he found himself staring at a pair of bright golden eyes belonging to Fullmetal.

The golden optics blinked at him before narrowing into a glare. Suddenly, a painful blow erupted on his left cheek and a voice coming from the persocom screeched into his hearing.

"YOU HEARD THE GUY, STOP CALLING ME AN 'IT'!!"

From Hughes' view, he remained speechless in disbelief when he saw Roy staring at the persocom's golden eyes not noticing that the metal arm had risen to deliver a hard slap across his face. Roy looked gobsmacked as he staggered back, clutching the burning bruised cheek, losing his balance and falling onto the floor. Hughes didn't take into account of the grin that was forming on his face.

Yes. This was going to be _very _interesting indeed.

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end chapter

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And YEEESSSS! He's awake! He's awake! And he's slapped Roy in the face! Whoo! Okay people, I have already made Ed wake up! So how was the chapter? Was it alright? I'm so bad at this computer terminology thing - argh!

Drop a comment! Lemme hear your feedbacks! -


	6. Five

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 27/09/09.**

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Oh goodness me. What a fast update. What a helluva fast update… OMG… you very lucky people! Last chapter had the most reviews! I guess you all _are _excited that Ed's now awake …

**Hell's Angel: **I think Ed'll appreciate the cookie! XD

**maria: **Oh, you love my fic! (blushes)

**Anime#1Fan: **Oh yes. Roy is definitely one smug, pompous git, a whiner and acting like a child. That is all part of his character. He's supposed to be like that! He's going to get a taste of his own medicine once he discovers Ed's … uncooperativeness. Glad you liked Winry's automail mechanic role swapped for persocom technician!

**Qtip: **Hey you! How did you get here?

**E-san: **It's your lucky day!

And for everyone else who reviewed – wow! Thanks a whole bunch for being so nice to drop a comment! I think it's because of the 20 reviews I got for last chapter motivated me to write and update this one up quicker. I'm tired now, you people! It's 3 am in the morning!

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**-5-**

Roy stumbled back, his cheek flaming red and sore as his hand automatically reached up to cover it. Logically, he didn't understand what was happening due to the fact that the shock of getting hit by a persocom had petrified his thoughts. His head spun and his knees gave away, causing him to fall onto the floor. Wide onyx eyes stared straight at the persocom, who was now sitting himself up.

For a few seconds, Roy remained speechless as he continued drinking in the golden-eyed glare delivered by the humanoid computer. It was then when his cheek started throbbing painfully that he felt his prejudice return and an anger rise up in his chest.

"_What the_ – !" Roy started to yell but found that he had lost his words. He realised that he was still in shock, still _stunned_, still in utter _disbelief _to take in the fact that his persocom had just _slapped _him in the face. He remained motionless on the floor, his hand still clutching the red, throbbing cheek. The persocom blinked at him, the frown still fixed in that teenaged appearance before the golden orbs narrowed in irritation.

"Looks like he _does _work after all," the sound of Hughes' voice snapped him out of his confused and angry thoughts. Roy tore his gaze away from Fullmetal to find his best friend smiling at him. Beside him, Winry stared at Fullmetal, clearly astounded because her mouth was lying open. Shakily getting up to his feet, Roy turned back to Fullmetal, seeing his glare still locked on him. Seemingly, a feeling of uneasiness washed over him, causing him to take a step back from the table.

He did not like the way the persocom was glaring at him right now.

Hughes continued smiling, satisfied with the stunned expression on Roy's face. He tapped the amazed Winry on the shoulder, "Winry, now that we've logged in, do you think you can tell us what sort of programs he's got?"

Winry shook her head a little to snap out of her thoughts. Like Roy, she was dumbfounded that Fullmetal actually hit him across the face and shouted at Roy not to call him an 'it' … was it possible that perhaps Fullmetal was maybe very _different _from other persocoms?

What sort of brilliant genius would make such as creation!

She decided to tell the two men about her thoughts.

"What?" Hughes stared at her in disbelief. "What do you mean he seems different?"

"Well," Winry said, tapping her chin with a finger as her eyes strayed on Fullmetal, who remained quiet but continued glaring at them. "It seems that he's already programmed to have a personality…" she paused when she realised that the expressions on both Hughes' and Roy's faces remained blank. She sighed, "in other words, it's almost like Fullmetal is programmed to have _free will_."

Hughes startled. A persocom that could choose what it wanted to do? But … that seemed impossible! That sounded as if they could act just like humans. _Choose _just like humans. Maybe even _decide _just like humans. Did such a program even exist?

"Actually, I've _heard _of a persocom will a program which enabled it to make decisions for itself. I'm not sure if I'm right about it – but I think it malfunctioned and broke down. Or it was destroyed. And that was about a decade ago, during the last Civil War…" Winry continued, her expression thoughtful.

"So _you're _saying … that Fullmetal here has a program similar to that other persocom's? If it was a decade ago, why hasn't _that _program installed in any of the persocoms these days?" Roy piped up, finding his voice was back. His jaw hurt less now but it continued to throb.

Winry crossed her arms, shaking her head, "that's a mystery. The research data that instructed how to create that program probably got lost. I'm amazed that Fullmetal seems to have it."

Roy shot a glare at Fullmetal, "Still … I now have a persocom who can't function properly and also think for itself. And it just _slapped _me. Great, just great. Now what the hell am I going to do now?"

Winry's eyes lit up, "you can maybe leave him here so I could take a closer look at him …"

"Uh," Hughes placed a hand onto Winry's shoulder, which was shaking with excitement, "that _won't _be necessary. Roy is going to bring him home and take care of him."

The teenaged girl's shoulders sagged in disappointment and Hughes patted her on the shoulder apologetically before taking a couple of steps towards the irritated Roy and faced the persocom sitting up on the table. He spoke, "Fullmetal, yes you. Would you like to come home with your owner now?"

Fullmetal remained motionless, "_no one_ is my owner" was what he said.

Hughes raised an eyebrow, "how about come home with your user then?"

The word 'user' suddenly alerted the persocom. The suspicious look was still set in his face but he moved, hopping off of the table to stand before them. Both men noted the persocom's lack of height despite his mid-teen appearance. The golden eyes stared back at them before they travelled down to their chests. Roy frowned in confusion at the persocom's doing.

"Don't I get them?" Fullmetal said, pointing at Roy's chest. Roy grew even more confused. What was this thing asking for?

He felt Hughes elbow him in the ribs again, "Roy, Fullmetal is asking for a shirt to wear."

Somehow, this statement caused Roy's face to warm up. Fullmetal had noted that he was half-naked. How could a persocom like him _know _these things? Was acting human-like part of Fullmetal's programming?

Roy didn't know whether to laugh or stay irritated. The fact that he owned one _awesome _persocom would help put him back on his high-esteemed status. But owning a persocom who had free will and had in fact _slapped _him seemed otherwise. Right now, all he wanted to do was get home and get some sleep.

After digging through Fullmetal's box for the loose black jacket, he handed it to Fullmetal in silence. Hughes had left him in the room to talk to Winry about Elicia. Fullmetal stared blankly at the jacket he was holding up in front of him. Roy blinked. What was his persocom doing, just standing there like that? Wasn't he going to put –

"What the hell are you waiting for? Help me put this on!" The persocom snapped, holding the jacket up higher. Roy startled at the rude words, his eyes narrowed as his dislike for this persocom grew.

"Since when can you cuss?"

"Since I _learned _it from you! Now stop talking and help me put this on already!"

Roy remained speechless again. Fullmetal … learned from him? What did he mean by that? When did –

" … _And it just _slapped_ me. Great, just great. Now what the hell am I going to do now?"_

"_Roy, stop calling him an 'it'."_

Oh. So _that_'s how he learned. Fullmetal used the words spoken by others. Therefore he probably had some sort of auto-learning program installed as well. Roy reminded himself not to speak words that would probably be used against him next time. After all, if this persocom continued acting like this around him not to mention being uncooperative, he'd probably dump this thing off somewhere before he reached home.

Roy had no choice but to help the persocom put his jacket on. He buttoned up the jacket, his fingers barely touching the warm chest and he kept his gaze away from those alerted golden ones. He stepped back afterwards, feeling the suspicious glare still on him. The feeling of uneasiness came back and he forced himself to stare at the persocom in the eyes.

He realised that the feeling of uneasiness that he was experiencing was entirely stupid. Why would he feel uncomfortable being stared down by a _persocom? _A _computer_? Something that wasn't even _human_ for god's sake! It wasn't as if this thing could do anything to him really! Even if this thing slapped him before, it was still part of its programming. If you take it away, it'll be useless! Simple! With the thought of that, a smirk started to form in the man's lips.

A scowl appeared on Fullmetal's features. "What are you planning, Mustang?"

Roy's smirk disappeared to be replaced with a look of surprise. "How did you know … my name?"

The identical smirk that Roy had previously worn was mirrored on Fullmetal's face. "Accessing user data files … You're my user, Roy Mustang, department chief of Prise Gadget Enterprises, current age 25 …" the smirk widened. "Of _course _I know my user. I've got your data files, you know. Without it, I won't be able to identify you."

Roy felt anger rise in him when a throb from his bruised cheek made him recall the incident before. "If you recognized me, then why did you slap me, you little jerk?!"

It could've been the trick of the light because he thought he just saw Fullmetal twitch a little back there.

"Because …" Fullmetal hissed, leaning closer. "I _don't_ like you. At all."

Roy looked taken aback, some small part of him feeling affected by this forward confession. Come on, _everyone _liked him. After all, he was the top man. Okay, maybe there could be a _slight _possibility that Riza Hawkeye might not like him because he pissed her off sometimes – but that wasn't the point.

The _point _was that this was probably the _first _time that someone told him in the face – _just like that_ – that they disliked him.

And that someone just happened to be a _persocom_.

Still, he erased his thoughts, trying to appear more superior, "well – I'm not bothered. Because you know what, Fullmetal? It appears that _I _happen to dislike you as well. So we're even. However," he added in the most serious tone he could muster into his voice. "Since I am your owner and user, you have to obey me and do whatever I tell you to, like the good dog you are –"

"I'm not a dog," snapped Fullmetal. "And you're not my stupid owner either!"

Roy began to feel his temper rise. He was _not _going to be bossed around by a stupid computer that looked like some small kid! "Don't speak unless I tell you to, Fullmetal!"

"I can speak whenever the hell I _want_ to, Mustang!"

Roy's jaw dropped open at the fiery retort from his persocom. The way Fullmetal responded showed that he wasn't going to back down from this argument. No … this had obviously gone too far. Roy needed to show this persocom who was boss.

He grabbed Fullmetal's arm and pulled him towards him, hissing bitterly into his ear, "_listen _Fullmetal. You are a persocom and I am your user. _I_'_m_ the one who tells you what to do, understand?"

The golden eyes burned as Fullmetal roughly pulled his arm out of Roy's grasp. "No," he answered stubbornly.

The irritation Roy had contained was beginning to rage now. His face began to flush with anger and he opened his mouth to yell when –

The door of the room swung open and Hughes and Winry walked in. Seeing the two facing each other, Hughes gave a smile, "okay Roy! We're done! I've already paid Winry the bills and now you can go home with …" his words trailed off when he noticed the tension between the two. Hughes exchanged glances with Winry before addressing to his best friend, "Roy … what's going on in here?"

Roy turned to Hughes, revealing his flushed face and the pulsing vein that throbbed at his temple. Not to mention the blue bruise that stood out attractively from his cheek. Roy lifted a finger, pointing it at Fullmetal, yelling loudly, "that _stupid little_ _thing _won't listen to what I _say_!"

Twitch. Hughes saw the movement of Fullmetal's body when Roy said those words. The persocom locked his eyes on Roy, a low growl escaping his lips.

Hughes sighed. He suddenly felt fatherly when he reassured Roy quietly, "why don't you ask Fullmetal nicely?"

"_Nicely?_" Roy screamed. "IT'S A DAMN PERSOCOM! A COMPUTER!! WHY SHOULD I ASK A COMPUTER NICELY?!"

"Because if he _is_ a different sort of persocom," Winry piped up, clearly frustrated in putting up with Roy's yells. "And he could decide for himself, then treating him nicer would probably help change the way he thinks about you." Winry sighed, "maybe he doesn't want to cooperate because you called him an 'it'."

"Which would probably explain why he slapped you in the first place," Hughes added, grinning toothily.

Roy suddenly felt exhausted from the fight, from the shouting, from being angry, from feeling irritated. All he _really_ wanted to do now was to get home. He wanted his god-damn bed. He wanted to forget about all this!

For now, all he could do was to cooperate with his stubborn persocom. He _hated _the thought of Fullmetal winning the first round of this conflict but … Roy wasn't losing entirely yet.

No. He still planned on showing this piece of recycled hardware who was boss.

Nodding to Hughes to show that he gave in, he turned to Fullmetal, trying to appear more calm for the persocom to read his expression as he spoke as _nicely _as he could, "alright, Fullmetal. We're going home now."

The persocom just looked at him with narrowed eyes. Then, without another word, he turned towards the door, his blonde braid flicking over his shoulder, before strolling out of the room. Roy stood, transfixed with surprise that such a simple tactic used on a computer no doubt actually worked. He could feel his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"See what I mean?" Hughes grinned, this time the 'I told you so' tone was perceptible in his voice. "If you're nice to him, Roy, he'll listen to you, okay?"

"Maes," Roy hissed, his face twisted with disgust as the three made their way to the front of the shop. "Don't treat me like a child. I am _so_ not in the mood here."

**

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end chapter

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**

(Yawns) Well.. there you have it. No cliffy-hangers for now. I think I'll probably put more hilarity of EdRoy craziness next chapter. I dunno.

I know what you're thinking. At the beginning. Ed's a little silent. We're expecting him to shout or scream at them for talking about him as if he's not there but bare in mind about what was said before. Ed is _learning. _He's learning to talk using others' words. He's even asked Roy to teach him how to put on a jacket … so okay, it was more of _ordering _Roy … which brings us to the next little thing I need to get off my chest.

Here, you may see that maybe Roy is a little uke (I'm not sure if this is the right word to use). He's almost following Ed's orders. But he's struggling to get back to the top and he's pretty surprised to find out that Ed refuses to back down.

Oh, and did you notice Ed twitching when Roy called him 'little'? Yeah … we know. He's not exploding yet because, like I said, Ed is still LEARNING and he's forming that part of his personality. XD

Anyways.. enough of my rants. I am tired and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I must go and sleep now …


	7. Six

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

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* * *

Let's get straight to the point –**

**Qtip: **Here's the update! And where have all my mediaminer reviewers gone? O.o

**Koinu: **(-Gasps-) Best crossover fic? Mine? You gotta be kidding! (-Is skipping with joy-)

**Kodachi: **Thanks for the long review! And you have sharp eyes there! Here, you'll get to notice more! As for your question – nope, the owner didn't know that someone sent over an assassin to kill him. He was too busy working on Ed – simple!

**Anime#1Fan: **Dear me… Roy is so stressed. Bless him! Heh! Glad you've dropped a comment! I'm happy that the chapter satisfied you! You're lucky there's more Ed learning here!

**Pheonix: **Hiya! Welcome back! No worries! Thanks for encouragement xx

**Tainted-Sand: **In this story, the part Hughes plays here is my fave! He's the guy who's Roy's best friend, a bit of a boaster (in a good way), funny and cheeky and also fatherly as well. I'm not happy with Episode 25 at all … that's why I put Hughes here in a good, safe position – away from any possible deadly 'accidents' … oh, you get what I mean … XX

**awesome coolness: **Thanks for reviewing! Glad you like my story!

**flame-alchemist-x: **(-laughs-) No, don't worry... I won't die. I will continue this fic as much as I can! Thanks!

Gasp! **100 reviews**? OO … what the … ? (-is flabbergasted-)

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**-6-**

The moment Roy opened his eyes, he noticed that his cheek felt unusually swollen. Bringing up a hand, he traced the affected area with his fingers only triggering the bruise to throb at his careless touch. The man groaned as sunlight shone its way through the window. He felt literally exhausted that morning, not to mention that his head felt as if needles were being pierced into his skull. He rubbed his eyes and forced himself to sit up.

He met the sight of a pair of golden eyes staring back at him.

"ARGH!" Roy literally jumped out of his skin - or rather, he jerked in his bed, unknowingly pulling his bed sheet up against his chest. At the foot of his bed, Fullmetal smirked at Roy's reaction.

Seeing the persocom there threw Roy into a state of brief confusion. It wasn't until he remembered the pain on his cheek that he recalled what had happened yesterday. His eyes narrowed into a glare as he got out of his bed, a small blush of embarrassment spreading its way across his face. How an idiot he must've looked to that persocom …!

But wait! Fullmetal was _only _a persocom. Why would he care what a stupid computer would think of him?

"What are _you _staring at?" Roy snapped. He wanted to resume their argument from yesterday. This time, he was ready to launch the attack.

Fullmetal perked up one eyebrow, "I'm waiting for you to wake up, Mustang."

"Since when do _you _start waiting for me to wake up anyway?"

The smirk widened causing the golden orbs to flash, "It's not the question of so, Mustang. It's because you're already late for work."

All the planned retorts he had formed for the coming argument suddenly disappeared. His eyes widened when he whipped around to find the numbers of his alarm clock glowing 10:26 am.

Without another word, Roy tore past Fullmetal and rushed into the bathroom, flinging off his clothes to step into the shower. After remaining in for just five minutes, he got out quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist, muttering angrily to himself.

Late … he was late for work. This had to be the first time he was _late_! It was all that damn stress he had been having for the past few days. And all the pressure of trying to handle the fact that he certainly did _not _have his BEach model. Instead, he was literally _forced_ to keep _this _persocom whose programming enabled it to think for itself.

Oh, did he also mention that that damn thing also slapped him in the face?

Speaking of Fullmetal, Roy realised that something in his normal routine was missing. He stuck his head out of the bathroom door to find Fullmetal still sitting on his bed, motionless. He scanned around his room – his breakfast tray and work suit were nowhere in sight.

Normally, he would adjust the settings of his previous persocoms like Gina to wake him up, prepare his breakfast and ready his suit for the upcoming day of work. But since he couldn't adjust any settings in Fullmetal, he had _asked_ (under Hughes' presence) Fullmetal what he needed to do this morning. The persocom had chosen not to respond verbally, although he _did _shrug his shoulders. Roy had taken the answer as a yes.

Now that he was literally running awfully late, Roy could feel his anger rise. Fullmetal had _failed_ to carry out those requests.

He stomped out of the room, advancing onto Fullmetal, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Grabbing the persocom by the collar, he yelled into his face, "What the hell are you playing at? You're supposed to wake me up! Where's my breakfast? Why haven't you prepared anything, huh?"

Fullmetal's upper lip lifted into a snarl. Roy found himself being shoved backwards when the persocom pushed him off. "That's because you didn't tell me what _time _you wanted me to wake you up! I don't even know how to cook your stupid breakfast either, let alone do anything else in this house."

Roy reeled back, clearly disgusted, "What kind of persocom _are _you? Aren't you fitted with house chore programs like all the other 'coms?"

The persocom's expression remained intact. He snarled, "No. As a matter of fact, I have to learn everything from scratch. So if you're waiting to be handled from head to foot, just forget it!"

The muscle in Roy's jaw clenched. Why on earth did he agree to KEEP THIS MALFUNCTIONING, RUDE AND STUBBORN –

"I suggest you get ready soon, Mustang. Or you'll be even_ later_ than usual."

Roy shot a poisonous glare at Fullmetal, before heading over to his closet to take his suit out. Scurrying back into the bathroom, he had begun the process of dressing when he stopped in seeing his reflection in the slightly fogged up mirror.

His face was pale, distinguishing the shadows under his eyes. His left cheekbone was swollen, the skin a dull purple and blue, from where Fullmetal had hit him yesterday. Roy groaned, raking his fingers through his wet, messy hair. He was trying to predict what his colleagues would say when he strolled into the office, _late _and looking so terrible like this.

Still, he needed to go to work today. The company's president was going to visit his department – and he _couldn't _miss that. He was glad the visit was in the afternoon. He still had plenty of time to pull himself together.

Once he finished looking as neat and smart as he possibly could, he emerged from the bathroom, his hair combed back. Somehow, after that reminder, he felt more fresher and more active than before.

"You look like crap."

A pulsing vein popped in his temple as Roy turned to face the frowning Fullmetal, who had left his place on the bed and was now standing by the window, letting the sunlight play with the colour of his hair. His mood was _not _going to improve if this persocom continued getting on his nerves.

"Shut your mouth, you small contraption," Roy shot back, his voice deadly calm. "You're forgetting your place."

The golden eyes narrowed angrily and the persocom's shoulders tensed. One eye twitched.

Roy turned away, leaving the room as he straightened his tie. Fetching his keys hanging from the key holder on the wall of his kitchen, he managed to grab an apple and bit into it. He opened the refrigerator in search for something to else to eat when he discovered that the house's food supply was running low. He made a mental note to himself to pop down to Central Parishes later for some grocery shopping. Turning off the light switches, he walked to his door before a sudden thought made him stop.

He was going to leave Fullmetal at home, _alone_. Was that even _wise_? He didn't trust Fullmetal since the persocom had told him that he couldn't do anything else in the house. What if he broke something? Or damaged his belongings – or messed up his place? Hell, what if he burned his apartment down - or worse??

Again, Roy shook his head at the thoughts. He was treating Fullmetal as if he was alive or something. As if Fullmetal was some naughty kid he had allowed to stay in his apartment. He needed to keep in mind that Fullmetal was _only_ a machine.

Still, Roy couldn't take that risk. He turned to call into the silent apartment, "Hey Fullmetal, come down here!"

Fullmetal appeared a few seconds later, the suspicious look back on his face as golden orbs shone with curiosity. He was playing with the end of his braid as he stared up at Roy.

"You're coming to work with me," Roy simply said, taking his coat off the hook. The man saw Fullmetal eye his coat as he pulled it on.

"And if I don't want to come?" Fullmetal said. His tone didn't sound as if he was against the idea. It had a suspicious tenor in it instead.

"Well then," Roy smirked, for once he almost felt like his old self again. "You won't be able to learn anything new, won't you?"

**OoOoO**

They went straight into his office to meet the usual large pile of paperwork that was laid out on his desk. With relief, he met none of his colleagues on the way up to his office. Once he and Fullmetal were inside, there was a fast knocking on his door. Roy felt his stomach twist nervously when he approached the door and opened it.

He met the autumn coloured eyes of a certainly pissed off Hawkeye before a set of small jaws clamped painfully onto his ankle.

"OUCH!" He jumped back, shaking his leg when he found a growling Black Hayate below him. Roy growled in reply but in an effort to restrain himself from kicking the stupid mutt 'com by reaching down to rub the bitten ankle. He muttered to Hawkeye, "You don't have to do that, you know. This is just a first time for me to be late! I remembered about Hakuro's visit –"

"Please don't make excuses, sir," Hawkeye interrupted. Her voice was quiet yet bitter, signalling that she wasn't in the mood for Roy's sucking up.

She noticed the bruise on his cheek because once her eyes landed on it, they narrowed, "So you decided to spend last night wallowing in alcohol only to emerge looking very inadequate for the president's visit today. You know, it's only worth my time to come to work just for _your_ sake, sir. I'm a little disappointed in you."

Roy suddenly felt as if those sarcastic coated words had stabbed him in the chest. That disappointed tone somehow made him feel guilty.

Hawkeye had reminded him of their agreement. It had been in the beginning when he first acquired the job that Roy had fought long and hard to reach the chair of department chief. He had revealed his goal to Hawkeye one afternoon, and Hawkeye, recognizing the determined motivation in Roy, decided that she would stay by his side to help him get promoted. For Roy, he found the offer extremely surprising and perhaps flattering. He had once proposed the idea that perhaps Hawkeye fancied him. However, the serious, piercing looks she gave him caused him to drop the idea.

Riza Hawkeye noticed that his appearance was off today – bags under his eyes – a bruised cheek. She knew that this was certainly the first time the department chief was late for work. But what was the reason behind so? It wasn't natural for Mustang to arrive like this. Was he depressed about something? Was the pressure of work too much for him that he diverted his stress into heavy drinking? And had he been involved in some drunken fights last night and got himself that bruise?

Riza Hawkeye was _concerned_ about Roy Mustang.

She found that he had quite an unusual character. On one hand, he was a man who frequently slacked off work, was an arrogant show-off and a impenitent flirt. But on the other side, the side that Riza admired **– **the side where he showed that he actually _cared_ for people closest to him and the side where he held on to that fierce determination to reach the top no matter how long the road was. And Riza Hawkeye had already decided to help this man attain that goal.

But sometimes, in order to keep him going up that road, she needed him to become serious about his paperwork. Which was, in fact, why she brought Black Hayate down to work with her.

Riza's eyes shifted and landed on another occupant in the room. She averted her attention away from Mustang and stared at the short blonde teenager standing in front of her superior's desk, bright golden eyes staring at them.

"Hello," she said, confused at why Roy brought this child into the office with him. "Are you here on a visit?"

Her superior cleared his throat. "Um … he's not a child, Hawkeye," a broad grin formed in his lips. "He's my persocom."

He was satisfied to see the look of surprise on his secretary's face. She took a few steps towards Fullmetal, tilting her head sideways to further observe the persocom. "Hmmm … he looks _very_ life-like, sir."

Pride swelled up in his chest. She was impressed! Riza Hawkeye was actually impressed! The grin widened even more, "yeah – I got him yesterday you see? It's a funny story really –"

In noting the boasting tone in his voice, Riza realised that being impressed by Mustang's new persocom was a mistake. She formed the assumption that her superior was avoiding the question of why he had arrived late to work, looking like a wreck. She always thought that even with that arrogant, self-absorbed exterior he displayed, deep down, Roy Mustang was really a good man. But right now, she just couldn't put up with that same old attitude of his.

"Those papers on the desk have to be looked through by lunchtime," she interrupted, sending a hint over at Mustang that she was back to her old self. She turned, talking over her shoulder. "And Mr. Hakuro will visit the department at 2 pm. So I suggest you should be prepared, sir." She began to walk out of the office.

Seeing that Hawkeye was still dissatisfied, Roy's guilt returned. Before he could think, he called out to her, making her stop.

"Hawkeye," he started and gulped when those red-brown eyes turned back to him. "I wasn't drinking at all last night. I … I'm really sorry that I'm late…"

For a second there, he thought he saw a linger of a smile in that straight expression. She nodded firmly and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Ignoring his persocom, he made his way towards his desk, sitting onto the office chair. He turned on his desk computer and waited for it to start up.

"Hey Mustang," the persocom's hard voice bit through the silence of the room. "I want to ask you something."

Roy, who was feeling lighter after his apology, couldn't help to look up and meet that golden gaze. His eyes widened when he noticed that the expression of the persocom's face was curious. Just as he realised that he had been staring for too long, Fullmetal's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hel-lo? Mustang?"

"Uh?" the stupefied reply escaped his mouth. Blinking at the fact that Fullmetal was still waiting, his body responded by spreading the tint of red over his cheeks.

"What do you want to know?"

Fullmetal motioned towards the closed door behind him. "Her, Hawkeye. I don't understand what happened back there…"

"What d'you mean?"

"What went on between you two? Your speech... it doesn't seem to match up..."

Roy suddenly realised that Fullmetal was referring to the conversation he and Hawkeye shared. More realisation hit him at the knowledge that Fullmetal would not understand the psychology behind human speech. Noting the curious, confused appearance in Fullmetal's features, he decided that perhaps he'd just give in and tell. After all, what was the harm in explaining this to a persocom that wasn't even human?

"She thought I was letting her down by being careless coming to work so late," Roy answered smoothly. "I felt bad so I apologised and from what I've seen, she's glad that I did."

"Glad?" Fullmetal blinked. "She didn't say that she was glad. How could you tell?"

He hesitated before he spoke, having chosen his words carefully, "I could tell because I could. Knowing when someone is glad doesn't mean you have to hear them _say_ they are. It's human instinct – you can just tell by reading their expressions."

Fullmetal remained silent, just staring at him as the persocom's features turned thoughtful. Roy forced his gaze to turn away from the persocom in front of him. There was just _something_ about the way Fullmetal's expression filled with understanding that made him look so … entrancing.

Once his computer finished starting up, he opened a few documents and got to work looking through the first pile of papers. Throughout the reading, he began to feel uncomfortable being stared at by the persocom at front of his desk. Seconds ticked by and his face suddenly heated up as the golden eyes continued remaining on him. Once he couldn't take it anymore, he looked up irritably, fighting back the blush on his face, "Why are you just standing there? It's awkward, you know. And _annoying_."

Fullmetal shrugged. "Why not? I'm trying to watch you work."

"Well – go do something else for a change. I can't concentrate with you hovering around my desk!"

The persocom's shoulders tensed up and the golden eyes glared, "Then what the hell am I supposed to do now?!"

Roy was about to yell back when a dull pain passed through his head. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding that he should forget stressing himself any further or else this damn headache was going to get even worse. Opening one of the drawers of his desk, he grabbed a random book and tossed it over at the persocom. Fullmetal automatically caught it and held it up.

"'The world of Business & Finances' by E.F. Simmons," he read out.

Roy shut the drawer, turning back to his papers. "Go sit down and read. It'll take your mind off things for a while. And don't disturb me while I work."

The persocom shot Roy a look before making his way to sit down on the office couch, opening the pages of the book to begin reading.

Roy turned his full attention to his work. After all, he needed to finish sorting all these papers out before lunchtime!

**OoOoO**

It was lunchtime. Or at least – it was ten minutes into lunchtime break. He had finished sorting out all the piles on the desk. The muscles of his shoulders ached and the dull pain in his head was coming back. Roy rubbed his eyes before settling his gaze onto Fullmetal, who was currently buried into the contents of the book he had lent him earlier.

He got up from his seat, flinching a little from the small sting on his ankle caused by Black Hayate's bite. Running a hand through his hair, he called out to the absorbed Fullmetal.

"Hey you. We're going to lunch now."

Fullmetal looked up from the book and stared at him. Roy was suddenly taken aback when those golden eyes were bright and spellbound, probably from the fact that he had gained a lot of knowledge from the book he was reading. Fullmetal closed the book and got up from his seat, "Lunch? I'm a persocom so why do I have to come watch you _eat_?"

Roy rolled his eyes. Why can't his persocom just do what he was told and forget the questions?

"Just _come _with me."

Fullmetal hesitated before following Roy outside.

They got out of the glass building, heading towards the local Starbucks where most of his colleagues hung out. He began to feel a little excited about showing off Fullmetal. After all, _Riza Hawkeye_, of all people, was impressed. And anyway, his colleagues were _always _impressed with the previous persocoms he brought to work. They looked up to him for being the influential model who owned the best and latest persocoms.

If Fullmetal continued behaving like this and staying quiet throughout the lunch hour, he'd _just_ come back to the office in a better mood.

"Hey Roy!" Jean Havoc called him over where his colleagues sat around a table, hot mugs set in front of their respective owners. Roy came over and stood in front of the table, greeting the men.

"Is this a friend of yours, sir?" Farman asked, motioning to Fullmetal. Roy smirked widely, trying to appear calm and cool. He answered dramatically (and not to mention quite arrogantly), "nope. This is my new persocom."

He saw his colleagues – Havoc, Fuery, Farman and Breda – staring intensively with awe at the persocom standing beside him. Roy almost snorted through his smirk at their disbelieved expressions.

Not long now until the impressed praises would come …

"So … this is him then? The persocom that hit you?"

"Oh wow! He _does _look like the sort to go rebelling!"

"You've gotta be kidding! A first time in history a 'com hits his owner!"

"That bruise over there is in the size of the grand canyon! He musta hit you pretty damn hard, sir!"

Roy felt his mouth drop open at the unpredicted reaction he was getting. He noticed that his face was slowly heating up with embarrassment at the amused looks the other men were shooting at him.

Hughes was _definitely _going to get his ass kicked the next time Roy saw him.

* * *

**(end chapter)

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**

**Right! I was a bit worried about this chappie … and wow.. it turned out to be long! This is the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my fics! **

**Hmm … I wonder how this turned out? I had to revise it a couple of times and I think this is the best draft… I think. Not much happens I guess – but some important points are highlighted I guess. I think there'll be more coming up next chappie .. I've planned stuff on what happens..**

**I had to think up someone to be Roy's boss. I was considering Fuhrer Bradley or Basque Grande … but Hakuro seemed like the type of guy to be a CEO so I picked him.**

**As for Hughes – he told everyone about Ed slapping Roy! Now everyone's taking the mick – bless Roy! No more showing off anymore! Hughes, you cheeky git! - :D**

**Any comments or questions are appreciated. See you next chappie.**

**AND THANKS FOR ALL THOSE REVIEWS!**

**P/S: Got a couple of questions for you people. If you'd be kind enough to answer them for me:**

**1) Do any of you know when Ed and Roy's birthday dates are?**

**2) And also .. what are the other cities in Amestris called? (I need some named locations)**


	8. Seven

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09

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Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update! I had exams – and a brief writer's block. Well … I written this chapter up just tonight and I'm so tired now! I'm supposed to be asleep and ready for school tomorrow!**

**Kodachi: **Uh? O.o … I think we'll see how their relationship gets on now … thanks for reviewing!

**connie: **Heya! I'm so glad you like my fic and my ideas! Yes, I am aware about the whole copying thing. I figured having the same storyline and characters going through the same things the originals do was boring. So I experimented on something new!

**xXFullmetal KitsuneXx: **oh well … I figured I just write it up for the hell of it!

**And thanks for all your help, people! Anyways, here's the chappie. In my opinion, it isn't very good because I wrote it up all night and I'm _very _tired **

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**-7-**

He decided that perhaps being embarrassed about it was a pointless approach. No, he was always admired by everyone because of his practical ideas, his confident exterior, his remarkable charm of earning high praises. So no, he mustn't show his colleagues that a mere slap in the face by his persocom had any effect on him! Therefore, he decided to put on a straight face and simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I suppose Hughes must've told you guys then."

"Yeah! This morning in fact! We didn't know you were gonna bring him today."

There was a scraping of chairs as the four men briefly left their supposed seats to examine the persocom in more detail. Roy took a step aside as the fascinated swarm of subordinates flocked around a wide-eyed, horrified Fullmetal.

"Wow … he's so real-looking …"

"I thought he was a real kid when Roy came in with him!"

Havoc proceeded to lift Fullmetal's chin up with a hand as he peered at those glaring golden orbs. The cigarette stick at the corner of his mouth brushed the persocom's cheek as the blonde man murmured over to Roy, "gosh Roy. He's amazing! I mean … I heard Hughes said he has a program that enabled him to decide for himself. I've never heard of _anything_ like that – he's gotta be a prototype or somethin'."

Fullmetal's eyes narrowed as he reached up and viciously slapped Havoc's arm away, "Hey! Don't _touch _me!"

Havoc looked taken aback from the snappy outburst, holding his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"

Breda sniggered, "Careful, Havoc. Soon he'll be slapping _you _next!"

"Say, sir," Fuery enquired at Roy. "With an attitude like this, how did you manage to handle him?"

"Yeah Roy," Havoc agreed, nodding at Fuery's direction as he chewed on the end of his cigarette stick. "I mean – he's rude, alright. Living in your house like this, you must be pretty damn patient to handle someone like him."

The statement made the corner of Roy's lip turn up. His playful smirk was back on his face as pride started to swell up in his chest. Ah … the joys of being on top of the world again … Maybe he'll forgive Hughes for telling on him just this time …

Eventually, they all decided to sit down in their seats, also pulling up an extra chair for Fullmetal. The persocom just scowled at Roy's smirk as he sat on the seat located between his user and Havoc.

Fullmetal leaned sideways to hiss bitterly at Roy, "Mustang. What is the point of me being here if I'm nothing but your stupid show-off toy?"

Somehow, ever since the persocom had woken up with the intention of trying to appear superior to him, Roy suddenly felt as if the tables had turned. That stubborn, impatient look on Fullmetal's face showed that Fullmetal was incapable of doing anything now since he was just meeting this sort of a situation for the first time. Like Roy before, in new scenarios like this, he chose to whine. Roy mused. Maybe he should take a page out of Hughes' book …

And anyway, he didn't mind giving these gentlemen a good show of his cool superior skills.

He smirked as he shook his head and spoke 'nicely' to Fullmetal: "Now, now, Fullmetal. Let's not be selfish. I'm just introducing you to my companions. You don't need to get too uncomfortable like that."

As he had predicted, the grown-up tone he used made Fullmetal's eyes narrow into a glare. "What the -? Why are you even _talking_ like that anyway!"

"Fullmetal, please don't shout. It's rude."

From the corner of his eye, Roy could see the other men's impressed looks at the way Roy was treating Fullmetal so calmly.

"I'd never be able to do that," Farman muttered, shaking his head.

"He talks back to you and you take it so calmly," Fuery commented. "You are a remarkable man, sir."

Roy practically preened in his seat.

Breda looked thoughtful as he scratched the back of his head, "Sir, don't you usually buy persocoms who are tall, sexy girls?"

"Yeah, this is probably the first time you bought a persocom this short, Roy …" Havoc started, looking very thoughtful as well. "I mean … we didn't expect a little runt like him to go against you, you know …"

Twitch. Roy noticed the persocom's eyes have shut, the eyebrows furrowing. Hey, didn't the persocom have the same reaction when he woke up at Rockbell FiXers?

"He _does _seem shorter than the average persocom..." Fuery continued, being helpful.

_Twitch. _Fullmetal's lip lifted into a snarl as his shoulders tensed. Roy's eyebrow perked up. Guess it really _wasn't _the trick of the light then …

"Well …" Havoc grinned, picking up his mug of coffee. "The producers could at least make him a little taller –"

It happened so fast. The next thing Roy knew, the blonde persocom had lifted his elbow and knocked the mug out of Havoc's hands, causing the hot coffee to splash down the man's front shirt. Havoc yelped and jumped out of his seat. The sound of a mug shattering was followed by the scraping of a chair against the wooden floorboards and a loud voice ringing through the now silent café.

"DAMN IT! I'M NOT A RUNT, YOU STUPID IDIOT! I SWEAR, IF YOU START CALLING ME THAT AGAIN, I'LL …!"

Roy's eyes were wide with shock and surprise as he just sat there, speechless, watching the persocom continue screaming at the poor coffee drenched Havoc.

**OoOoO**

"I'm very glad you decided to visit our department, sir," Roy gushed. His posture was straight, his manner confident and he was practically strolling proudly alongside the CEO of the company. It was nearly 4 p.m., and so far, Mr. Hakuro's visit had been absolutely fine. His staff was thankfully on their best behaviour, the work was going well … all he had to do now was wait until Hakuro delivered his comments.

"No, no. Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Mustang. I see everything is up to date here. I'm very impressed that you're keeping things well," the grey-haired man nodded merrily. His own persocom, a red-haired female in a formal suit, followed behind. "Yes, Mustang … if it's alright, I'll sign those inspection papers you reminded me earlier on right now."

"Oh yes …" Roy felt his confidence sink. Those papers were left in his office. With Fullmetal.

"I'll fetch those papers right away, Mr. Hakuro –"

"Nonsense, Mustang! I'll come to your office to sign them."

In deciding he shouldn't argue, Roy led the CEO into his office where the blonde persocom was currently reading the business book he had lent him. Fullmetal didn't even look up to see who had entered.

"Oh," Hakuro blinked before rubbing his chin. "Your son, Mustang?"

Roy nearly choked when Hakuro said that. As for Fullmetal, the persocom had lifted his head from the book to scowl in disbelief at the CEO.

"Oh no, no sir," Roy coughed, snatching the papers and a pen up from his messy desk. Hakuro quickly signed his papers before asking his red-headed persocom to later remind him to call his wife. Turning back to Fullmetal with an interest in his eyes, he chuckled, "So, son? What's your name?"

For a second there, Fullmetal's eyes widened with realisation. It was as if a question like so never even dawned in him.

Roy cleared his throat, "Mr. Hakuro, sir. He's a persocom."

Hakuro's eyebrows rose, "Oh? Really? Well, I never noticed how much he resembles a real child! Stand up, son, come on – _that's _it – yes … he reminds me of _my_ boy. Only he's a little shorter though …"

**OoOoO**

Riza Hawkeye drained the last drop of water before she tossed the paper cup into the nearest bin. She sighed heavily, glad that the CEO's visit at the department had been successful. She was impressed that Roy Mustang handled the visit so thoroughly well despite looking like a mess this morning.

She spotted Hayate trotting by the door of Mustang's office minutes after Mr. Hakuro and Roy had entered. She was just about to call her persocom dog when a sudden, muffled yell reverberated from inside her superior's office, causing the poor Hayate to startle.

"THAT'S IT! CALL ME SHORT _ONE _MORE TIME -!"

**OoOoO**

It seemed he had found out that his stubborn persocom had a sensitive spot. He had been wondering why Fullmetal kept twitching or growling whenever a reference about his lack of height was mentioned or referred to. He made a mental note to himself to use this method in order to tease the rebellious persocom.

It was now past five and the two found themselves in the middle of the Central Parishes, the indoor shopping walkway. Roy was there to stock up the house's low food supplies and he just happened to drag Fullmetal along.

Now that he remembered, he should at least teach Fullmetal something beneficial to do.

"Okay," he started, getting the persocom's attention as they entered the local Somerways with a trolley. "I'm going to teach you how to shop. Well, this'll come in useful when I ask you to buy stuff for me."

"Huh? Why do I have to do _your _shopping?"

Roy restrained himself from snapping back. "Just bear with me, Fullmetal. _Everyone _does this so why don't you? You don't want to be _lazy _now just sitting in the house all day with nothing to do, don't you?"

"...Just shut up and teach me."

In ten minutes, they emerged from the supermarket, carrying plastic bags full of grocery. Just as they were about to pass a department store, Fullmetal stopped. Roy, confused at the action, stared at the stubborn look on the persocom's face.

"Mustang, I want a coat."

"_What_?"

"You heard me. I want a _coat_."

Roy looked into the department store and raised his eyebrow, "_Why _exactly do you want a coat for, Fullmetal? You're not cold, are you?"

"I don't care! If you happen to wear one, why shouldn't _I_ get one as well?"

It was no _wonder _why Fullmetal was eyeing Roy's coat this morning.

Roy sighed. If Fullmetal continued acting this demanding, it'll give him a headache soon. He might as well just give the damn persocom what he wanted so he wouldn't squabble again afterwards.

They entered the store, which was partly crowded with shoppers. Fullmetal's eyes wandered here and there along rows of displayed clothing, shoes, jewellery … well, basically everything. Roy sighed, feeling somehow uncomfortable. Damn, he felt like a parent now, accompanying a demanding Fullmetal like this.

The persocom suddenly rushed over to a section of men's clothes where he dropped the plastic bags he was holding to pull a luxurious red coat off one of the hangers. Roy silently made his way over to him as he watched Fullmetal pull the coat on. It was apparently _way _too big on him because it swallowed his small figure, the long sleeves hanging barely a few inches above the floor.

Roy suppressed the urge to laugh. Fullmetal frowned as he looked down at the coat.

"Dammit. I must've picked the wrong size."

"_Or_ you're just too small to fit into it, that's all."

"SHUT THE HELL UP, MUSTANG!"

Roy cleared his throat when he realised the outburst had attracted a few stares towards their direction. He quickly pulled the coat off Fullmetal and began to find the smallest possible size he could find. In obtaining one, he handed it over where the still fuming persocom swiftly pulled it on.

It was still a little big but it looked absolutely fine on Fullmetal. Roy realised that the red colour went quite well with the persocom's blonde locks. Fullmetal was just starting to button up the coat when Roy reached out a hand to stop him.

"Don't," he said quietly. "It's looks much better unbuttoned."

Fullmetal stared up at him as his grasp on the buttons was released. He looked down at the coat with a … satisfied smile on his face. Roy couldn't help but stare.

"I'll take it, Mustang."

After a short pause, Roy shrugged and began searching for the price tag of the red coat. He almost gaped with disbelief.

"Are you _crazy, _Fullmetal? This costs three hundred and ten Cenz! What the hell is this thing _made _of to be this expensive?"

"You're just making excuses, Mustang. Just pay for this and let's go already."

"Fullmetal, I'm not spending three hundred and ten Cenz on a coat that doesn't even _fit _you."

"If you can afford spending thousands of dollars on persocoms, then you can afford to buy a simple bloody coat. Deal with it, Mustang."

Roy narrowed his eyes. He flung the other coat over the clothes rail before picking up the plastic bags and marching towards the pay counter. Fullmetal followed suit.

At the counter, Roy asked to pay by credit card. As he waited for the paper slip, he noticed that Fullmetal was hovering by the jewellery section. The persocom was standing still, his eyes focused on a mesmerizing, sparkling silver ring behind a glass display. Roy straightened up when he caught the expression on Fullmetal's face. Fascination and something else … a sort of yearning?

"Mr. Mustang? Please sign here, sir?"

Roy tore his gaze from the unusual sight and focused on scribbling his initials on the paper.

**OoOoO**

The drive home was unusually quiet. Fullmetal, now in his _expensive _red coat_, _did nothing but stare outside the window as the landscape rolled alongside them.

"Mustang?"

"Yes, Fullmetal?"

"Remember what Hakuro said? What my name was?"

Roy's gaze remained on the road but his attention was on Fullmetal. "What about it?"

"Well … his persocom's name is Jenna. And Hughes named his, Elicia. Why haven't Igot a name yet?"

"Geez, why are you this demanding, Fullmetal?"

"Shut up! I don't _like _being called Fullmetal. What sort of a name is that anyway?"

"Fine. A new name then. How's Weshinki sound to you?" Roy shot off absent-mindedly.

"What is the hell is _that_?"

"Okay, okay … Leo?"

"NO! That makes me sound like a _cat _or something …"

Roy glanced at Fullmetal and agreed to the fact that the persocom actually_ did_ resemble like a feline when he was angry.

Fullmetal scowled, crossing his arms. "I don't want any special name. Hell, I don't even _want _to be named by the likes of you either … I want my name to be Edward."

"Edward? Where on earth did you get _that _name?"

"Got it from the author of the book you lent me this morning."

Roy took a left turn, a frown furrowing his eyebrows. "Book …?"

"Damn, are you this forgetful, Mustang? _The World of Business & Finances _by E.F. Simmons. The initials stand for 'Edward Finchley'."

Roy snorted, hearing the childish tone in the persocom's voice. It reminded him of a child trying to convince his parents to buy him a new toy. "I don't get why I can't just call you Fullmetal–"

"It's _Edward_, Mustang. From _now _on, I'm _Edward._"

"– Besides …" Roy continued, feeling mischievous. "The name 'Edward' seems much more appropriate for _tall _people …"

"I DON'T CARE– AND STOP CALLING ME SHORT!"

Roy sighed. The yell had left his ears ringing, "Fullmetal –"

"_Edward._"

"Look–"

"EDWARD."

Roy sighed again, finally admitting defeat. "How about just Ed?"

The persocom hesitated before turning back to the window.

"Alright then … just Ed."

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**(end chapter)  
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**

Alright. I'd like to rant now. I've made my decision with this story not to make it complicated. I have formed a _bunch _of ideas (and I think they're _very _good) which contain many aspects relating to the FMA anime. However, because FMA is one long, big and complicated- I don't think I'll be able to fit these ideas into the story because it'll end up having a long and complex storyline .. yaddayaddayadda … thereby I announce that with this story, I shall keep it with the simpler, Chobits storyline … which is finding out about the story behind Ed's creation.

Anyway, now that's off my chest. I can go to sleep now. Oh wait, I haven't even probably expressed my comments about this chappie. _I _think the writing is bad. And due to my exhausted being, I have a feeling that Roy and Ed are a little OOC here (but that just might be me). And I also decided to ditch 'Fullmetal' for 'Edward' because … well, I dunno actually! I guess from next chapter on, 'Fullmetal' will be referred to 'Edward'.

Okay. _Now _I welcome the ever-sweet embrace that is sleep.


	9. Eight

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09.**  


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Hope this isn't a late update .. wait, it isn't. I'm sorry I didn't reply reviews! I didn't have time to because I was working on this chappie. I finished it just now and I quite like this chappie, I guess.

Well. Thanks to all those lovely, wonderful reviews! Here's Chapter 8!

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**-8-**

The next few days had been nothing but a blur. The temperatures began to drop as the leaves from the trees started to change colour. Roy's attempts to teach the recently christened 'Edward' the basics of household keeping was difficult. All and all, he still had problems in keeping up with the persocom's complaints and arguments whether it was from teaching the persocom how to cook (food would end up all over the counter, the floor or all over themselves for that matter), how to use the vacuum cleaner (Edward would sometimes attack him if Roy playfully tried to use the vacuum cleaner on his hair) and doing the laundry (Edward would sometimes forget to separate the whites and Roy's clothes then came out in different colours).

In realising his attempt to convince Edward to give up that stubborn attitude was hopeless, he decided that he was just better off trying to get used to Edward's rants however irritating they were. Whenever Roy was peckish or bored, he amused himself by teasing the persocom about his height. Edward's reaction to this entertained Roy, even if it ended up with him getting tackled down by the humanoid computer. Sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. It was fun seeing the persocom get worked up by his teasings.

Simultaneously, Roy began to notice just how fond Edward was of his coat. He had berated the persocom not to wear the coat indoors. Initially, the persocom had been reluctant and refused to obey until Roy had no choice but to force the coat off him. Edward had been angry towards him and just like a child, shouted at him to give it back. Roy, over the persocom's yells, loudly reassured him that just for the coat's sake, Edward would be busy doing chores that could damage the unknown fabric responsible for removing 310 Centz from his bank account. Edward, although bitter about admitting it, finally agreed.

So every time they left the house, Edward would follow Roy's example of collecting his coat and putting it on. The dark-haired man found it unusual to see the excitement contained in Edward's face whenever they planned to go out. Perhaps it was just because Edward really liked to wear that coat so much. Somehow, seeing the persocom looking … well _that _happy made him feel better.

One of the most annoying things about keeping Edward was his inability to function asa computer. It turned out that Edward did not know how to connect himself to the Internet and refused to even try. Roy could only check his mail in the office now. He could, however, upload files into Edward, providing he had an external connection cord and another system. Overall, Edward's only ability seemed to be his tendency to learn new things – whether it was learning new ways of cursing (thanks to those drunks at the bar Roy usually drank with Hughes) to learning how to shop for groceries (Roy had a call from the supermarket's manager once because of the incident Edward stirred up about the high cost of a bunch of tomatoes).

It was late afternoon on a sunny Sunday where Roy lazily sprawled across his couch, his finger tapping on the side of the remote control. He was watching the day's soccer match on his plasma screen TV. Edward was sitting quietly on another sofa, his attention focused on the book he was currently reading.

When the first half of the match was over (the score being 0:0), a news programme came on and Roy stretched for a while, aware that he was feeling thirsty. Feeling very lazy at the moment, he called out to the absorbed persocom.

"Fullmetal?"

"Edward, remember?" replied the persocom without looking up.

"Fine, Edward," Roy said, glancing back at the TV. "Get me a beer in the fridge, will ya?"

"Get it yourself, lazy ass," Edward muttered, flipping over a page, not bothering to lift his gaze up from his reading. Roy narrowed his eyes and considered the idea of tossing a cushion at Edward but in the end, decided against it.

Instead, Roy silently got up, despite his grumpy mood, and walked into the kitchen to fetch himself a can of beer. In returning, he found the news still on TV where the reporter was delivering a news report about the prison jailbreak in Central of a man named Zolf J. Kimblee, an ex-soldier from the last Civil War.

Roy flopped down onto the couch and leaned his head back. It was a peaceful day today as the golden rays of sunshine shone through the open windows. He took another sip from the can and glanced over at Edward, who hadn't moved from his spot. From where he curled comfortably on the couch, the sunlight shone onto those golden locks, highlighting the focused eyes. Edward appeared completely oblivious of his surroundings when he was reading. And boy, did the persocom like to read that much.

The second half of the soccer match came back on, causing Roy to tear his gaze away at the persocom to settle on the screen again. Enough with Edward. Roy decided that the only way he could handle the stubborn blonde was to treat him like a child.

After another hour, the match finally ended with both teams losing (the score was still 0:0). Roy switched his gaze from the screen to the empty can set on the glass table to the window. The sun still shone in that late afternoon and suddenly Roy felt as if the outside world was inviting him. He got up from his seat and stretched, raking his fingers through his dark tresses as he turned and walked out of the room, his mind set on deciding which places he felt like going once he was outside.

He stopped when he realised that Edward was still curled up on the couch, absorbed in his reading. He toyed with the idea of bringing the persocom along. It wasn't as if the persocom would do anything improper at all. Heck, he'd probably liked to be invited out anyway due to the fact that the said blonde was fond of putting on that red coat. What was wrong in seeing that contented expression on Edward's face?

He stuck his head into the living room and called, "Edward, we're going out."

Edward's head shot up to look at him and he instantly stood up, the book dropping to the floor, entirely forgotten. Edward formed a grin as his bright eyes large with that childish excitement Roy recognized whenever they went out. In seeing this, Roy couldn't help but smile.

They put their coats on as usual and Edward began to blabber on about the numerous locations he usually went when on his own – the park, a science museum, the National Library at Central … Roy couldn't help to chuckle at his lively mood.

They left the apartment and made their way towards the park. It was, in a way, colourful that afternoon where the surroundings were blessed with reds and browns of the swirling leaves that were being carried by the wind.

After a while walking through the park, Edward stopped walking to stare at a memorial ring of the recent famous doctors of Amestris. Around them, families noisily strolled by with their humanoid and animal persocoms. A small gust of wind rippled through their coats as Roy stood himself beside Ed, silently waiting for the persocom.

Edward peered at the carved name on the dark marble of the memorial, his lips moving to murmur out the words.

"Timothy J. Marcoh. Died December 7th, 2032. Beloved Military doctor, gifted computer expert and loving friend. Geez, wonder what sorta stuff _he _did to–"

From the corner of his eye, Roy saw Edward suddenly knocked aside and fall onto his back. Surprised, he turned around to see another child, a small blonde boy wearing a green chapska, scrambling off his motor scooter (those new popular transporters these days) before nervously approaching the sprawling persocom by his feet.

Edward whipped his head around to see the boy and yelled harshly at him, "What the hell was that for?!"

The poor boy looked frightened at those words, "I... I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to crash into you. I didn't see you–"

"Liar. And what the hell do you mean by you didn't see me, huh?"

Uncomfortably, Roy shot the boy an apologetic look, "I'm sorry about this. He's a little hot-headed sometimes. It's not you."

"Will you shut up, Mustang?" Edward snapped and Roy felt an irritated twitch from the vein on his temple. Edward continued shouting at the boy, "Your stupid scooter is dangerous! What were you thinking? Zooming around the park like this – people could get hurt from–"

"Edward …"

"–and besides! You're just being careless with that thing …!"

"Ed, stop it." Roy found his attempts useless because his persocom continued shouting and his loud volume was beginning to attract stares towards their direction. The poor boy Edward was shouting at was close to tears. Roy narrowed his eyes as he reached out and grabbed Edward's shoulder and pulled him away from the boy, speaking wearily above the persocom's loud voice, "I'm really sorry about that. Don't listen to him, okay? He doesn't mean any of those things!"

"Wha-? Hey! Mustang! What the hell -? What are you doing?" Edward struggled against his grasp and Roy continued to drag him until they exited the park. The persocom swung his arm and a metal fist hit Roy's shoulder. Roy let go of the persocom as Edward spun around and glared hotly at him through bright golden optics.

"Ed," Roy reassured quietly, trying hard to hold his temper as he brought up his hand to massage the forming bruise where the persocom hit him. "That boy said it was an accident, okay?" he paused as if to let the words sink in before continuing. "He didn't mean any of those things – he wasn't trying to hurt or annoy you at all …"

Edward's eyes narrowed in disgust. "There you go again. What is _up _with the way you talk to me like that? It's like you're talking to me as if I was a child!"

Roy felt his eyebrow rise. Edward had finally caught on. "That's because – despite the fact that you are a persocom, Edward – the way you act is undoubtedly that of a child. Therefore, the only way to deal with you is to treat you like one."

The persocom's eyes widened with disbelief. He opened his mouth to retort back but shut it. Golden orbs started to burn as an upper lip lifted into a snarl.

"I'm not a child!" he finally spat. "So stop treating me like one because I hate it!"

Roy smirked. He really wished he could record this on tape so Edward could _really _hear how much of a child he sounded like. "Well," he said calmly, crossing his arms as he gazed down at the fuming persocom. "I'll gladly give you a number of reasons as to why I think you should be treated like a child, Ed. Firstly, you are very demanding."

"I'm what? Since when-!"

"Demanding behaviour is so very child-like. Children ask their parents to get them what they want regardless of situations. Secondly, you complain and whine about everything."

"When would I–"

"Thirdly, you are impossibly rude and impolite to people–"

"STOP IT, MUSTANG! STOP IT! I'M NOT A CHILD!" Edward screamed, his face now twisted with anger. He turned around, kicking dirt into the air and took off running, leaving a surprised Roy behind.

Roy blinked as he watched Edward's figure growing fainter into the depths of the city centre up ahead. He let out a heavy sigh to relieve his previous irritation. At the moment, he was feeling two things. Firstly, he was impressed at his attempt to confront Edward in such a calm manner. Secondly, he was very much surprised that Edward, his _persocom, _was indeedacting _just_ like a real child. Especially running off like that. Didn't children behave like that when they got upset with their parents?

Roy felt oddly paternal after realising so. He didn't expect Edward to become _this _upset with him. After all, Ed _was _a persocom.

But a persocom being upset? What sort of persocom reacts this way? It's almost as if Roy had hurt his feelings. As seconds passed, Roy began to realise that even if Edward _was _a persocom, the dark haired man felt a little guilty about upsetting him like that.

Except why on earth would he care if the persocom was upset? Ed wasn't human so why should he even bother?

However the more he thought about it – thought about the way Edward looked so angry at him like that – his guilt intensified. Dragging his feet towards the direction of the city centre, he finally made his decision.

Evenif Edward _was_ a machine, Roy needed to apologise. No, he _wanted _to apologise.

He broke into a jog, remembering the path Edward took. Passing a couple of shops, he kept that same direction until he reached a small, deserted alleyway between two buildings. He was about to turn around to look at his surroundings when he heard a strangled yell coming from inside the shadowed lane.

He turned – and his eyes grew wide.

Edward was struggling to get out of the grip of a man with a grey overall who had a long, thin blade held up against his throat.

Roy took a couple of steps towards them before the man turned and saw him, instantly pulling Edward against him. The knife gleamed threateningly against Edward's pale throat. Roy's eyes focused on the red lettering on the man's clothes.

The words tattooed on the breast pocket of the grey uniform spelt out:

7906. KIMBLEE Z.J.

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**(end chapter)  
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**

Oooh… I've added Kimblee in! I need some research into his character if I'm going to get him to talk next chapter. Anyways! There's a very important clue in this chapter that's relevant to the rest of the story! But I shan't tell you – not yet anyway, it will spoil the surprise!

I'm a bit uncomfortable with Ed shouting at that boy with the scooter and Roy giving reasons on why Ed should be treated like a child. I thought it was a bit vague and needed more description or something else added – but I couldn't think of any! Oh well! I think you may notice that Ed and Roy have a sort of paternal relationship thingy going on – Roy acting almost like a dad to Ed. Well.. that's just a starter on their developing relationship. We may be seeing more paternal EdRoy fluff before the romantic feelings start to form.

Hah! I have some questions to ask you guys! Remember when I asked Ed and Roy's birthdays, I decided on Ed's birthday date already! And a present for him but out of interest –

1) What sort of present should Roy give Ed?

And secondly, I've been trying to decide between the two and I don't know which to pick!

2) Should Roy kiss Ed – or should Ed kiss Roy?

Oh, and tell me what you think of this chapter please! Stay tuned! XD


	10. Nine

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

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O.o

I'd best let you get on with reading. Everything I have to say is at the bottom.

**

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-9-

The first reaction was, of course, complete shock. He remained standing as he continued to take in the sight before an unexpected shiver ran down his spine when his eyes strayed onto the gleaming blade pressed against Edward's throat. Behind the blonde, the prisoner, Kimblee, smirked as he spoke to him in a quiet voice, "I suggest you don't move or I'll slice the kid's neck."

Edward only growled in response and hissed, "Let me go, stupid ass! What did I ever do to you anyway?"

Kimblee blinked at the words before his smirk widened even more, "Well, we have ourselves a fighter. You've got such a dirty mouth for a brat."

"Don't call _me _a brat!" Edward yelled and started to struggle again before Kimblee undoubtedly slammed him against the wall, causing another strangled yell to escape the blonde's mouth.

Roy forced all the shock out of his system as he tried to gather his thoughts together. Right now, he was concerned. A dangerous criminal was standing in front of him, threatening Edward with that knife. If he made the wrong move, he'd probably end up getting killed. Looking at Edward, he saw, to his surprise, the confused and lost look in the blonde's golden eyes. Even if Edward acted this strong, he wouldn't know how to act in this type of situation. After all, this was the persocom's first time to face a life-threatening condition …

But, wait a second … Edward was a _persocom_ … So he couldn't get hurt - he wasn't flesh and blood, but wires and metal under a fake skin coat. Roy relaxed a little after the thought. All that was needed to be done was to figure out a way to get them both out of this mess.

He stood his ground, unmoving, as he stared into the amber eyes of the madman in front of him. "Let him go, he's not doing anything wrong. We'll only leave without reporting your whereabouts."

Kimblee simply shook his head, causing his long dark ponytail to sway with the movement. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Now get over here so I can make sure you don't escape. If you don't, you can kiss this boy's life goodbye."

Roy gritted his teeth, about to retort back before he glanced at Edward again. Seeing those glaring orbs on him, he had no choice but to obey. He slowly brought his hands up and marched towards Kimblee. The prisoner grinned, keeping one hand to keep Edward in place as he pointed the knife in his other hand towards Roy's chest. Once Roy stepped into the shadows, he felt the sharp tip of the knife touch the middle of his chest. He tensed.

"What are you going to do to us?" Edward's muffled voice sounded out since the blonde's cheek was pressed against the wall.

Kimblee spoke, "Since you both know that I'm here, I might as well kill you to keep you quiet. Or maybe I'll kill you just for fun – it's been a while since I killed anyone actually." The psychotic, delightful tone in the man's voice sent more shivers up Roy's spine.

Roy felt his pulse quicken in panic. So much for negotiating. He was going to be killed off. For a moment there, he felt helpless, almost accepting the fact that this man was going to kill him. Roy was no fighter – he was just some snazzy department chief of a business corporation! He hadn't even gotten to be CEO yet! All that work done, hours of pointless paperwork and staring into the computer screen … all of this work and what? He was ending up dying in some alleyway.

"That's just stupid," Edward's voice snapped Roy out of his thoughts. The persocom was addressing to Kimblee, "… Killing for pleasure. That's the saddest excuse I've ever heard. Do you even _have _a life or what?"

At this statement, Kimblee laughed. He pulled Edward off the wall and turned him around so they faced each other. "You've got some nerve talking like that, kid. Perhaps you'd like to be taught a lesson. How about I make a little mark here on your hand…" he yanked up Edward's right arm, his other hand holding the knife swinging away from Roy to Edward. The persocom's red sleeve dropped down and Roy managed to catch a glimpse at Kimblee's shocked expression.

The knife stopped a few inches away from the now exposed metal wrist. Kimblee let out a disbelieved utter before he suddenly pulled Edward closer, letting a surprised gasp escape the blonde's mouth. The prisoner peered closely at Edward's face, then at his ears before he straightened up, amber eyes wide with realisation, "This is …"

Feeling his cool return as soon as he saw the same shocked expression when people discovered about Edward, Roy relaxed and said calmly, "Yes, he's a persocom. And he belongs to me."

Despite being in Kimblee's grasp, Edward moved to shoot Roy a dirty look, "I don't belong to you, asshole! I'm not some pet you keep on a leash!"

He thought he saw Kimblee's face darken a bit before the prisoner yanked roughly at Edward's arm, snarling angrily, all the sick delight vanished from his voice, "Be quiet or I'll stab this knife into the motherboard located in that thick skull of yours!"

At this threat, Roy felt his breath cut short and a sweat drop slip down his temple. Even if Edward was incapable to die, he was still vulnerable to become damaged. It seemed that Kimblee knew a thing or two about persocoms. If Kimblee destroyed Edward's motherboard, the blonde would be unable to function anymore. He would surely be permanently broken.

"Don't tell me what to do-!" Edward started before Roy found himself yelling, "Ed, stop it! Just do what he says!"

The persocom, being stubborn and ignorant as he was, snapped back at him, "I'm not going to obey _him_! It's bad enough for you to boss me around, you know!"

Not knowing if he did it on purpose or just for the hell of it, Kimblee pulled Edward's arm down and violently stabbed the knife into the metal wrist. Roy felt himself flinch at the gesture. There was a loud crack as the sharp blade penetrated into the metal and a few sparks emitted before the arm limply fell from Kimblee's hand. Edward's eyes widened as he stared at the now limp metal arm hanging by his side. Even though he was now free from Kimblee's grasp, he made no move to run. He was obviously as shocked as Roy was.

"What the–?" Edward's voice came in a whisper. "What did you do to my arm? I can't move it …"

Kimblee smirked, pulling the knife out from the arm and he pointed it at Roy to remind the man that he was not forgotten. "What did I do? Nothing much. I disabled the wires in your arm so you won't be able to use it. Simple really … persocoms are so much like humans. You know, your character reminds me a lot about Scar once. Back in the War, bastard's just as stubborn as you…" the amber eyes darkened again as the prisoner's upper lip lifted in a snarl, "Then he turned against us because he didn't like the killing and the bloodshed. I wished I killed him when I got the chance … but that doesn't matter now anyway. He's already long gone."

Kimblee turned to look at the blonde persocom who was clutching the dysfunctional metal arm. Roy suddenly noticed how tired Edward looked as those golden orbs stared back helplessly at the amber ones. Roy was aware that the blow of the knife might have disrupted Edward's functioning. The persocom seemed weak and lost.

A sinister smile formed in Kimblee's lips and Roy could guess that what the man was plotting was certainly not good at all.

"However …" Kimblee continued as he grabbed Edward by the chin and tilted his face up higher. "I'll be glad for you to take his place. I can kill you here just to satisfy that thirst for revenge."

Roy stepped forward, his hands shaking with a mixture of fear and anger, "Wait … why are you doing this? It isn't fair for you to just pick him to replace a person you want to kill!"

"Oh it _is _fair alright. If being human is too much to handle, then it's better off being dead."This statement left Roy clueless.

But still, there _had _be a way to get them out of this. Edward was hurt … no, no, _damaged_. Roy wasn't fond of the idea of being left with a broken persocom much less the fact he was going to get killed by Kimblee anyway.

He considered his options. Firstly, it was getting dark now. The sun was setting and the air was beginning to turn cold. There would be a slim chance anyone would wander around this street anyway. So hoping someone out there would save them was out of the option. Secondly, if he tried to make a move, he would either see the knife in Kimblee's hand end up in the middle of Edward's forehead or even on his own for that matter. Therefore, Roy couldn't do anything. But maybe …

His gaze fell onto the motionless and lost Edward, whose blank eyes were still fixed onto the limp metal arm. There had be some way Roy could get Ed to snap out of his horrified trance...

Roy frowned as he hastily bit his lip. What was he going to do? Kimblee was seconds away from stabbing Edward and what was Roy doing? Just standing there with empty thoughts? Where did that quick-mindedness of yours go, Roy?

Roy absentmindedly noticed that Kimblee's shadow towered over Edward's small withered form. And an idea suddenly formed in his mind. Straightening up, he spoke as seriously and calmly as he could to Kimblee, keeping his voice loud and clear so that Edward could hear the words:

"He's only a _pipsqueak_. Just let him go."

Golden eyes widened and eyebrows knitted together angrily. Suddenly forgetting about the limp arm, the persocom pounced, only to be held back by a surprised Kimblee who was struggling hard to keep the enraged blonde in his grip.

"_WHAT_??! YOU IGNORAMOUS BASTARD!! I'LL SHOW YOU PIPSQUEAK WHEN I CRUSH YOUR HEAD WITH MY FOOT!!!!"

Drowned by the shouting, a string of inaudible curses escaped Kimblee's mouth as he was forced to drop the knife he was holding in order to fully secure the persocom in his grip. However, Edward was ignoring all this because his attention was solely focused on the smirking Roy standing coolly right in front of him.

"Hold still -!" Kimblee growled, distracted by the attempt to restrain Edward, before he felt a heavy blow slam onto the back of his head, rendering him unconscious. He did not notice that Roy had snuck up behind him and knocked him out. Now free from Kimblee's grip, the persocom tackled Roy down, screaming into oblivion and beyond.

Despite the pain from hitting his head onto the ground, Roy felt a victorious smile form in his lips.

**OoOoO**

"Hmmm …" the blonde girl tapped her finger onto her chin.

"Well?" Roy asked, casting a look around the clattered shop. "Do you think you can fix him or not?"

It was the following afternoon after the incident. Kimblee was safely back in prison while Edward was especially bothered by his dysfunctional arm. To stop the persocom from whining, Roy had brought him back to Rockbell FiXers, where an excited Winry awaited them.

"The damage isn't _that _bad … just a few wires cut but I think I can patch him up nice and quick," reported the teenaged girl, peering closely into the cracked wrist. She whirled around and frowned at Roy, "How _did_ he get damaged like this? Look what happened to the careful craftsmanship of this arm! It's ruined!"

"Er …" Roy started, not sure if he should answer. "It wasn't by accident. Have you seen the news lately? We were cornered by a psychotic madman who wanted to destroy Edward in order to replace someone he wanted to kill."

"Come again?" Winry said as she proceeded to gather up her tools and begin the operation.

Roy crossed his arms, "He had a grudge on some soldier in the War. A guy named Scar or something …"

"Scar? Must be a nickname. I heard in the news, Kimblee's nickname in the War was Crimson …"

"...Anyway," Roy continued. "He said Ed reminded him of that soldier I guess – being they both refuse to obey orders. Kimblee wanted to kill the guy but unfortunately he passed away some time ago."

The blonde girl snorted, inserting a screwdriver into the wires of the arm, "That doesn't explain why you ran into him anyway."

"Well, _I_ didn't. Ed was the one who ran off and got himself in trouble –"

"That was because _you _were being a pompous jackass-! Hey! Watch the arm!" he snapped viciously at Winry. The girl looked taken aback for a moment before a pulsing vein appeared at her temple.

"You don't need to shout at me, you know! I'm the one fixing your arm!"

"Well, you definitely suck at it!"

Roy felt his mouth fall open when Winry unexpectedly grabbed the wrench lying on the workbench and swung it towards Edward's head. There was a loud clank and a surprised cry from the persocom as he staggered badly from the blow.

"What the hell was _that _for?" Edward yelled, bringing his functional hand up to clutch his head. "You could've damaged something else!"

"I _will _damage something else if you don't stop complaining!"

"Try me!"

CLANK!

Maybe Roy should leave them to it.

**OoOoO**

Edward held up his now fixed metal arm, flexing his fingers one by one. Roy smirked, letting the steering wheel slip through his fingers as he made a turn towards the direction of home.

"She's not a bad technician now, is she?"

Edward shot a glare at him, "She's not bad – despite being a banshee about it. I think my vision is a little blurred after she hit me with that stupid wrench twice." He shuddered slightly, his expression quite bitter, "I don't want to go back there. Who knows what she could do to me next?"

"Well…" Roy chuckled. "She once talked about taking you apart once. You've seen how she is about the construction of your arm. She _really _likes to know how you were built."

Golden eyes widened in horror, "Like hell – I won't go an inch near her! She's evil!"

They remained quiet for the rest of the drive. Until a few blocks away from the house, Roy noticed that Edward looked troubled. Wondering how such an expression could be formed on a persocom's face, he absent-mindedly asked, "What's wrong, Ed?"

The sound of Roy's voice caused the persocom to furrow his eyebrows into a frown. "Nothing, Mustang. So stop acting as if you _care_."

Roy first tried to consider if he should comeback to that statement before he realised what Edward was saying. _Stop acting as if you _care… Care? Did he _care_ for this stubborn persocom? The same humanoid computer who'd deliberately slapped him across the face? Well… wouldn't that be obvious? He was concerned and almost _afraid_ back when Kimblee had threatened to destroy Ed. Of course he cared when he saw that excited, content look Edward had when they went out. Of course, he _cared._

He cared about a _machine_ for god's sake. Was that considered ridiculous? Probably.

But knowing Ed, the blasted persocom wasn't going to answer his question without sheer force. So, pretending that he wasn't bothered at the persocom's words, Roy shrugged as they pulled up at the parking lot of their apartment. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he mumbled to the blonde, "That's the kind of attitude I expect nonetheless from a _child_, Edward."

The blonde snapped, slamming his fist onto his seat, "I'm not a child, Mustang!"

"Then stop acting like one and tell me what's wrong."

Edward fell silent for a moment before he muttered angrily, "I _hated_ it back there – with Kimblee. I felt so _stupid_ just standing there, relying on you to bail me out…"

Roy blinked in surprise. Did _that _really cross the blonde's thoughts? He'd never guessed.

"… I don't want to depend on getting things I want from you, Mustang. I admit that before, I did act like a stupid kid. But after Kimblee, I realised it. So now you don't need to treat me like I'm helpless because I'm not going to be …"

A strange feeling rose in Roy. Somewhere between pride and relief. He felt a smirk crawl up his lips after Edward had finished his speech.

"But you know, you're still short."

God, sometimes he just couldn't help it.

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**To be continued..**

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1) (Anonymous) Review replies!

**kyon: **Yes.. I guess I do update fast – usually in a week. I don't have anything better to do.

**Qtip: **ExCUSE ME? (is shocked) I don't even _know _how to write a lime much less a lemon! (laughs) Apparently, this story is going to be straightly (is that even a word) clean!

**Anime#1Fan: **Yup! Things that are mentioned will have a part later on in the story! Smart move!

**Poofiemus: **Well.. unlike Dragonfly, Kimblee isn't going to do much in this story. But he's going to make a good point however.

**Phoenix: **Action? I don't know how to write action scenes! I'll have to work on that! I hope this chappy is okay for you!

**curry rice: **THANK YOU FOR THE IDEAS! I'LL KEEP 'EM IN MIND!

**sciezka: **Apparently, he'll get more paternal. Oh dear.

**Hell's Angel: **heeh heeh … Thanks!

**Monn-star: **Don't worry, I'll keep writing!

**Neko edo-chan: **Cute name! Thanks!

**een nihc: **Same to you! Thank you for reading!

And to everyone else – YOU GUYS ROCK! SERIOUSLY!

2) Hope it wasn't such a long wait for you guys! I had trouble with this chappie. I had to do a little research into Kimblee's character – well there ain't much to the guy at all – apart from the fact he likes killing so much and he doesn't give a damn if he dies or not. I hope the Ed/Winry interaction was alright. And at the end, where Ed tells Roy he doesn't want to depend on him – including his speech – I hope that's a little more FMA!Ed for you …

3) I _still _don't know which to pick! Ed kiss Roy/Roy kiss Ed! Thanks for all the suggestions everyone! But I'm still clueless! And some of you guessed Ed's present right … sadly it isn't the pocket watch … Speaking of the watch – WHY didn't _I _think of _that_! O.o


	11. Ten

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09

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**-10-**

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The weather turned even colder as November approached. Roy noticed that his persocom's attitude was becoming bitter. Edward had been hectic as usual as he went about his daily chores and things but Roy couldn't help but notice that the blonde seemed a little depressed. Roy sometimes noticed a distant look in Edward's eyes during the few times they went out. It worried the dark-haired man so much that one day he finally asked Edward what was wrong and received a snappy reply:

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course I'm okay. I told you before, I don't want your help on anything."

But the more he noticed that yearning, faraway look Edward had, the more concerned he felt. A tugging feeling of uneasiness and guilt sometimes overtook him when he noted the look on the other's face whenever they were in the same room. He often found himself staring too long at Edward, his thoughts on trying to discover the persocom's dilemma. However hard Roy coaxed the blonde, whether kindly or teasing, Edward merely _insisted _that nothing was wrong.

On one of his work days, he was having lunch with Hughes, who had abandoned his sandwich to boast about his beloved wife and his persocom, Elicia. The spectacled man finally noticed that Roy was deep in thought and proceeded to snap him back to reality by poking him painfully in the ribs.

"Ouch! Would you stop that?" Roy's eyebrows stitched into a frown as he snapped irritably at his best friend. Hughes, however, was unaffected by this as he launched a question, "What's wrong, Roy? You seem pretty off today. Is it Fullmetal?"

"Uh? Edward, you mean …" Roy corrected and paused. Should he share his thoughts with Hughes? Might as well. The dark haired man explained to Hughes about the thought that had been bugging him all week.

"You don't say …" Hughes nodded thoughtfully. "Ed looks like he's longing for something. That's very unusual for a persocom to do – but then again, Ed _is _unique …"

"What pisses me off is that he won't tell me what's bugging him. It's starting to drive me crazy."

Hughes suddenly chuckled, "You should listen to yourself. You sound like a concerned dad."

The statement left Roy speechless. He stared at his best friend with a horrified look on his face. The thought of playing father to a stubborn persocom displeased him. There was _no way _he was treating Ed like his son. Edward was obnoxious and rude! And here, Hughes assumed he was worrying over Edward like a parent to their child.

For a moment, he regretted ever mentioning his thoughts to Hughes at all. He wanted Hughes to understand how he felt about the situation – not interpret it. But then another thought occurred to him. Despite knowing that Edward was merelya persocom, Roy had responded to him, treated him as a _person_, not as a persocom. A person who had thoughts, who made decisions and choices, who had expressions … who reacted with _emotions_.

It was such a ridiculous idea to think of. Yes, he admitted that he cared for Edward but not like his other persocoms. Edward was different. A million times different. Edward acted so human that Roy, as a human himself, could not help feeling worried about Edward.

By the time he accepted this, he found himself leaving work to head towards the Central Parishes. He didn't know why he had decided to walk around the walkway but some force brought him here. He was still engrossed in many thoughts as he crossed the long hall partly full of shoppers. He stopped when he saw the department store where he first bought Edward's coat.

When Edward had demanded him to buy that coat, Roy had no idea why he did it. What had he been feeling that time? Surprised by the demand? Angry about the order? Delighted that he was doing something nice to Edward?

He entered the store, his onyx eyes sweeping over the various shelves, aisles, racks, displays as he continued walking.

Edward adored that coat. It was somewhat relieving to see a twitch of a smile on the blonde's lips. Buying that coat to satisfy Edward had turned out to be a good thing.

Perhaps, in order to cheer the blonde up, Roy had to give him something that he wanted. But what _did _Ed want to be happy? Roy couldn't bear asking the persocom himself for Ed would just snap at him and say that he didn't want to depend on him to get things. But thinking up another solution to cheer the blonde up seemed impossible and a waste of his time.

Just as he passed a cash counter, he stopped in front of a glass display which displayed a silver ring. For a moment he stared at it, noticing how mesmerizing it looked, at the way the lights reflected off the surface.

Edward had been staring at this ring. Roy suddenly recalled the yearning look on Edward's face when the blonde studied the ring. It occurred to him – was _this _what Edward wanted? Was this what the blonde wished to get and couldn't, making him depressed and gloomy?

It made perfect sense. Edward must _want _this ring. Roy frowned at the blonde's choice in jewellery – that ring was clearly a ladies' ring and yet Edward liked it? He told himself that he shouldn't blame Ed for picking something so feminine – after all, Edward _was _a persocom.

He called for the shop assistant.

**OoOoO**

This was ridiculous.

Just ridiculous.

The ring was packed in a little, velvet box hidden deep in his pocket. He just didn't have the courage to pull the damn box out and hand it over to Edward. It was because of the stupid feeling of embarrassment and the knowledge of Ed being a persocom that stopped him from carrying out the act. Roy knew he wouldn't give a damn what Edward felt when he handed the blonde the ring. Why would he care what Ed thought of him?

That was why he found it ridiculous not to have it over and done with and just give it to him.

He was being stupid about it. Even _thinking_ about handing it to Edward brought a blush into his face. Roy sighed as he stirred his warm mug of coffee. Again, he found himself having lunch with Hughes – a day after he bought the ring. He hadn't done much of his paperwork – mostly because his mind was fixed on trying to devise a way to give the damn ring to his damn persocom and also that Hawkeye had caught him 'day-dreaming' and snapped him back to reality by sending Black Hayate on him. Even so, he _still _hadn't done that much.

There just _had _to be a way to give that ring without being so _embarrassed _about it!

Today, Hughes was boasting about some sort of a birthday party he was planning to throw for his persocom, Elicia. The spectacled man's eyes were bright with excitement and he kept reaching up to his shoulder to ruffle the top of his beloved persocom's head. Elicia would giggle and wrap her little arms around Hughes' neck, echoing his words with extra enthusiasm.

"Of course, I'll invite you to her party! And you should bring Ed! I'm sure Elicia would like him to come! Elicia likes Ed, don't you?" he cooed to the cute persocom on his shoulder and she nodded, smiling widely at Roy.

"Elicia wants Eddy to come! Come to her birthday party! Yay!"

Hughes beamed at his persocom before he noticed Roy's expression. The spectacled man grinned, clearly guessing what was going on in his best friend's head.

"So Roy," he began coolly. "Have you solved your 'Edward problem' yet? You know I'm good with figuring things out …"

The other man just chuckled and shook his head, "It's nothing. Forget what I said before, Maes–"

It was either his expression or his tone of voice that betrayed his words because Hughes was able to see through them. "Don't tell me," the spectacled man grinned. "You got Edward something, right?"

Roy blinked at how fast Hughes had discovered his motives but his best friend kept talking, "And unfortunately, by the looks of it, you haven't given it to him …"

There was a slight pause before Roy's shoulders sagged. "Okay," he sighed, lifting his mug. "You got me, alright? I'd appreciate it if you don't rub it in on me now. I'm trying to figure out how to –"

"I wasn't planning on pestering you about it," interrupted Hughes. His green eyes behind his glasses flashed, "I was planning on giving you a solution."

A solution? A small smile crept up the edge of his lip as Roy stared at his best friend.

"Alright, Maes. Shoot."

**OoOoO**

Edward cursed out loud – firstly to the burnt casserole he had left for too long on the stove, secondly for getting brown stains all over his apron and the kitchen counter and thirdly for following Mustang's orders to make dinner. He had been in a bad mood all week and had spent a lot of his time outside the house, roaming around the Central Library or the museums while Mustang was at work.

Lately, he felt a tugging sensation to search for something. He wasn't sure what it was he wanted. He figured that perhaps it was his yearning to learn new things. But the more he looked, the stronger that feeling became.

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing and footsteps coming to the kitchen. Edward left the casserole and turned to glare at his dark-haired user.

"'Bout time you came back. Where the hell were you? I don't want to be the one stuck making all your dinners, you know."

Seriously, why couldn't Mustang just do his own cooking, the lazy bastard. Edward understood that even if he disapproved of cooking for his user, he couldn't fully disobey that order. After all, as a persocom, he was programmed for these things.

The cocky bastard standing by the kitchen door looked at the messy state of the kitchen and of course, at Edward himself. The persocom saw the man's lip curl into a smirk, "Ed, why don't you go and change? We're going out."

Out. That magical word. Edward was hungry to see new sights and experiences. It would probably give him that new chance to find what he was looking for – whatever the hell it was, of course. The persocom was about to run out to change when he noticed a new expression on Mustang's face. His processing systems analysed the facial expression and decided that it resembled vaguely like excitement hidden in those features. What was Mustang up to? He immediately fell into suspicion and he narrowed his eyes at the man, muttering under his breath in a cautious tone, "Where exactly are we going, Mustang?"

Mustang's expression changed into utter surprise, "Hughes' place, that's where."

Edward frowned, "Geez, why are you acting so surprised when I asked, huh?"

Mustang shrugged, "If you want to know, Ed, you usually don't ask where our destination is when we go out anyway."

"So?" the persocom snapped, untying his dirtied apron. "Why the hell are we going to Hughes' place anyway? He's annoying and he talks too much about Elicia."

Mustang snorted, " We're going to a party."

In going through his built-in English dictionary in one of his many programs, Edward was able to match the word's meanings to many, "A party? You mean food? Drinks? Games? Music? Dancing?"

"Very good, Edward," Mustang mockingly congratulated him, his smirk widening now. "It happens to be a birthday party for _you_ and Elicia."

It was as if his internal processor froze for a second. He was able to interpret those words and they somehow triggered some sort of new feeling in him that he couldn't make out. Had Mustang just said … a birthday party for …

A birthday? Wasn't that a date in which you celebrate every year? He found it strange that humans would celebrate a time of the year when they turn a certain age. But he was curious about it. According to the stories he came across in books, people seem to find an element of happiness in that time… some sort of joy worth celebrating …

But Edward wasn't human. He wasn't born – he was created. He was a persocom for god's sake! He wasn't meant to deserve a birthday – a time for happiness. Persocoms couldn't feel or understand happiness at all.

Despite all that, he couldn't help noticing that deep down, he wanted one. A birthday, that is.

But who would organize this? It couldn't be _Mustang_ … could it?

"W-what? What are you – I mean – this isn't what I asked for – I don't understand …" Edward made no attempt to move as he continued, "I don't _have _a birthday. Then … why are you giving me one?"

"Hughes is giving one for Elicia. So I thought why shouldn't _I _give you one as well? Come on. Even birthdays are a time to lighten up."

This had to be the first time that the persocom fell speechless. Another feeling came to him. Some thankful, warm feeling directed towards the man in front of him. He didn't know how to react.

In getting no response from the silent persocom, Mustang patted the blonde's shoulder, "Why don't you clean yourself up, huh? I'll be waiting outside in the car for you."

* * *

**(end chapter)

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**

It's been FOREVER since I've updated. If you have been popping into my profile once in a while, you'd see why. Stress for school is starting to go up again. Life is sure becoming hectic, eh?

Now before you bombard me with demands for quicker updates, I'm afraid I can't promise you that. Although I WILL however continue writing this story and I won't abandon it (not just yet). My internet access lies with the school computers so updating will be slow.

Thanks for all those who have reviewed! You've all inspired me! 'Till next update (and pray tell it's coming soon!)

-**NoriKo**


	12. Eleven

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

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**-11-**

By the looks of it, he saw that Edward was getting on extremely well with everyone. Currently halfway throughout the so-called birthday party (which looked more and more like a 'get together' cocktail party), the guests included a variety of people from the company he worked in along with a few unfamiliar faces and of course, their personal persocoms. Upon their arrival, Edward was uneasy being around this many people but as he mingled more and more with them (especially with Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Farman), he almost looked as if he was enjoying himself.

Hughes stood with a couple of people with Elicia on his shoulder as usual. He was flashing them digital pictures of his wife and persocom, gushing lovingly about how much he adored them both. Roy smirked. Hughes sure knew what he was doing. The spectacled family man had invited the company's CEO, Mr. Hakuro and his wife and kids along with some other people who were of high positions. This was the perfect opportunity for impression and good praises.

He cast a look over at Edward, who was somehow boasting his knowledge on the business world to the impressed Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Farman. There was a smug, arrogant look about the blonde's features. Roy snorted. Ed reminded him of someone very familiar there …

He felt something nuzzling his shoe and he looked down and to his shock, saw Black Hayate. By reflex, he jerked his foot back as realisation came to him. When there was Hayate … there was …

"Good evening, sir," greeted the all-too familiar stern tone of Riza Hawkeye.

Roy turned to face the secretary, who was clad in another suit and skirt. Roy suddenly realised that he had never seen the secretary out of uniform before. And even off work hours, she never did.

"Er … hi, Hawkeye. You don't need to be this formal. We're not in the office, you know."

Hawkeye chose not to answer, instead she looked over at the short figure of Edward and then back at her dark-haired superior. "I see your persocom is doing well."

Roy sighed. This party was the best that Edward's been. Compared to the previous few weeks when they were still fighting and shouting at each other and then the strange state of depression, this seemed to be the happiest that Edward has been. Spontaneously, a relieved gladness rose in his chest. He'll need to thank Hughes for this afterwards.

**OoOoO**

He wasn't aware that he was in high spirits. He admitted he enjoyed seeing those impressed, worshipful looks directed towards him from those idiots. He mused if this was what it felt like to be Roy Mustang.

Speaking of so, Edward glanced around the crowded room to search for the dark-haired man and found him in conversation with Riza Hawkeye. He wondered why Mustang was doing this – arranging this 'birthday' party with Hughes just for him and Elicia. Was it one of his tricks? Was Ed being used for Mustang's advantage?

Even if it was so, he surprisingly found that he wasn't all bothered by the thought. Mustang had given him this opportunity to experience a birthday party that was for him. He found it shockingly _nice _of Mustang to give him this (even if Ed never asked for it) – and he decided that he actually _liked _this contribution.

Edward didn't know what he thought of the dark-haired man. He still disliked Mustang for being the pompous bastard he was. The man was annoying and arrogant and loved to think himself as powerful and proud. As for living with Mustang, Ed had been teased, played at and manipulated by him. Hell, Mustang even treated him like a child…!

A child?

Edward averted his gaze from Mustang's form and settled on the figures of Hakuro's children who were getting told off by their grey-haired mother. A thought strayed onto him: Mustang had treated him, Ed, as if he was a _human _child, a person, not an object. It was a surprising and unnatural coincidence. But why? Persocoms weren't alive so there was no reason for Mustang to treat a non-living thing as human.

Then again… what about Elicia?

Elicia was a portable persocom who belonged to Hughes. Despite being a humanoid computer, Hughes adored her, cared and _boasted _about her as if she were his own child. Heck, he gave her a damn _birthday _for all he cared!

He was shaken from his thoughts by the questioning from Havoc. He excused himself from their company and began to wander around the room. The long tables set near the window were piled up with plates of delicious looking food. At the end of the table stood two birthday cakes, their names scribbled in pink icing traced over the creamy surface. On another small table by the wall sat wrapped up presents addressed to Elicia. He rolled his eyes at the stacked up boxes, thinking that the guests wouldn't bother buying _him _a present because they thought he looked too old for them. No matter, he told himself. Presents are for children. Persocoms weren't made to receive such gifts.

But why were persocoms invented in the first place? he thought suddenly.

Well … wouldn't _that_ be obvious? Persocoms were tools for humans – man's greatest inventions. They were valuable in terms of quality and cost. They were created to make the quality of life easier. They were just … _things_. And yet … Hughes saw Elicia more valuable than any of his possessions. He loved her like a person … like a daughter…

Humans were curious, complex creatures. He remembered the first time he was brought to work by Mustang and listened to the man and Hawkeye's confusing confrontation. What Mustang had said … knowing how a person is feeling inside even if they don't say it …

"Hey Ed! How's it going! Enjoying the party?"

"Oh, hello Hughes," Edward replied as he found himself facing the enthusiastic spectacled man, this time without his adorable persocom bouncing on his shoulder. Technically, Elicia was with Hughes' wife, Gracia, who was in deep conversation with some other guests by the table.

"Elicia's having so much fun, it's absolutely killing me to see her so happy!"

Edward sighed at this statement, "Get over it, Hughes. I mean, Elicia is happy _all _the time. I can't recall a day when she never was!"

"Come on, Ed!" Hughes laughed, clapping a hand onto Ed's shoulder. "This is a birthday party for her and for you, too. All the reason to be cheerful about it! Do you see the new outfit Elicia's wearing? She looks so cute in it! I've already taken a new bunch of digital pictures of her with her birthday cake, her presents, with Gracia …"

As Hughes continued his prattling, Edward took note on how much Hughes cared about Elicia.

"Hughes," he said in a strange tone which rendered the man to stop and listen. "Why? I don't understand why you're throwing a birthday party for Elicia. A birthday for someone is to make that person happy, isn't it? Since Elicia is programmed to always be that cheerful and energetic, what is the point? What is your purpose?"

At first, Hughes looked surprised at the unexpected bombardment of questions. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts and answer. His face softened as he spoke, "I get what you're on about, Edward. I _know _Elicia is a persocom whose personality is controlled by her programs. She's always happy with everything and in every situation. But I've given her this party for a reason. It's to make her happy."

"What?" Edward lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm not following …"

Hughes squeezed his shoulder, "Just think of it this way, Ed. I want Elicia to be happy because of _me_, not just because she was programmed to have a cheerful personality. So knowing that Elicia is glad because I made her so … it makes _me_ feel the same way."

"And treating her like this? You're aware that she's a persocom, right? I don't want to be rude – I just want to know, why do you care about her like a daughter?"

He realised that he was caught up with these questions and knew they wouldn't stop until he got the answers.

Hughes took another few seconds before answering, grasping where Ed was going with this. He sighed deeply before smiling, "It may seem crazy to you when I say this, Ed … but humans … they sometimes need something to care about – whether if it's alive or not."

At once, Edward fell silent as Hughes' words processed in his head.

**OoOoO**

It was very late when they arrived back home that night. Roy had the opportunity to greet Hakuro and his wife, and the CEO had introduced him to his colleagues, who happened to be top businessmen from around the country. He had charmed his way onto their good sides and earned himself a handful of praises. Edward then blew out the candles with Elicia when it was time for the cakes. Afterwards, the cake slices were passed around followed by more chatting, boasting, dancing and the lot.

It was surprisingly quite tiring after all that.

As Roy hung up his coat and yawned, he listened to Edward's chattering about the party as the blonde pulled off his red coat and made his way to the kitchen. Just as Roy plopped down on the couch, he heard Ed groan loudly in the kitchen, complaining that the forgotten casserole had been left on the stove, now stone cold, and the kitchen counter was still in a dirty mess.

Roy sighed, realising that even after all that excitement, Ed was back to his old, grumpy self. No matter, he still had one task to attend to.

Of course he hadn't forgotten about the ring. He pulled out the small wrapped up package from his pocket. It was the moment he had been waiting for. He now had one good reason why he should hand this thing over right now without being so embarrassed about it. After all, you can't have a birthday without getting a birthday present, right? Rising to his feet, he strolled his way into the well-lit kitchen.

Edward scowled, annoyed that the place was a mess and it stank strongly of the cold casserole. He had dumped the contents of the pan into the bin and was in the process of washing up, trying to scrub off the dried and burnt stains with a sponge, muttering under his breath when he kept being unsuccessful. At the door, he saw Mustang enter.

The blonde held up the dirty pan to Mustang. "See this?" he grumbled. "From now on, I'm never going to make you that gross casserole again. It's making me do extra work for scrubbing it off. Do you know how much power it takes off my batteries? Next time you should at least _warn _me if you're going to eat at someone else's house. That way, I don't have to waste my energy to cook for you and then _clean_ it afterwards."

Roy felt a small smile crawl up his lips. Some things just don't seem to change, huh? He reached out and lightly tapped Edward's shoulder in order to get the blonde's attention. The persocom stopped his work, turning to face him as his golden eyes rose to meet his. Roy held out his hand, presenting the small package that sat on his palm.

The golden gaze dropped to meet the sight of the box offered to him. The box was square and wrapped up in a plain red packaging. Ed took a few seconds to stare at it before asking, "What's this?"

Roy sighed, thinking that Ed was a little dense tonight after all that excitement at the party. "It's your _present, _Ed. Take it and open it."

Edward startled, his eyes widening at the words delivered smoothly out of Mustang's mouth. He couldn't believe all this was happening!

"What -?" he stared perplexedly up at the dark-haired man, not moving at all. "First a surprise birthday … now a _present? _What's … what's all this about, Mustang?"

Mustang just shrugged, "Why not, Ed? You've been looking obnoxiously down in the dumps for the past few days. I thought this would at least cheer you up a bit."

Edward frowned slightly. Mustang was still bugging him on _that_? Hadn't Ed told him to drop it already? What was wrong with the guy when he had specifically stated that he didn't want any help? He glared back at Mustang and remembered his enjoyment at the party. Mustang had given him that party and now, he was giving him this present …

Roy began to feel uneasy as he stood there, holding out the box. His lips pursed as he waited for Edward to say something. They had been silent for almost thirty seconds now. Just as he thought so soon, Edward reached out, snatched the box and began to tear off the wrapping. Roy felt himself lightly relax as the tension on his shoulders was lifted. He blinked when he noticed the excitement burning in Edward's golden eyes. Once all the wrapping was off, Edward was holding the little velvet box. The blonde slowly opened it as the dark-haired man standing in front of him nervously waited for his reaction.

Edward gasped when he found the familiar silver ring sitting inside. Just like in the department store, he watched the dazzling lights reflect off the silver surface from the ceiling lamps of the kitchen. He stared at it for a moment, feeling the strange emotions of surprise and disbelief wash over him. It was then when he realised just _what_ Mustang had got him that caused him to look up at said man with narrowed, annoyed eyes.

"Whatis _this_?!"

Roy had watched Edward's reactions with amusement, noticing how the blonde's expression had changed from surprise to disbelief, delight and finally, realisation and annoyance. He laughed as the blonde fumed at him, "Why, it's a ring, Edward. Can't you see that?"

He watched as Ed hesitated before yelling at his face, "Is this some sort of a JOKE, Mustang? Rings are for women!!"

The dark-haired man smirked. Even if Edward tried to deny it, he had a lot to learn about trying to conceal it from him. Roy just _knew _when the first time the blonde had laid eyes on his present that he liked it. Roy crossed his arms as he gazed coolly back at Ed. "So you don't like it?" he answered. "Funny, I thought you wanted it when you stood in front of that display and stared at this ring–"

"WHO THE HELL SAID I WANTED IT?!"

Knowing that he had strayed into bad territory, he reassured, "Calm down, Ed. I didn't say you wanted it. I meant you _looked_ as if you wanted it. Didn't you?"

He had hit the right spot because the angry expression faded from the blonde's face as Edward continued staring up at Roy with wide eyes. Again, he was speechless. Roy had given him something that Ed hadn't demanded. It was half true about the ring though. He indeed _liked _its beautiful appearance, maybe had the thought of having it as his own … but he never mentioned wanting it. He really didn't have the intention of getting it anyway. But why was Mustang being so _nice_ to him? Why would he go to all this trouble to cheer Ed up? Why did Mustang _care _about what he felt? About _him_?

_Because he was human_. An echo of Hughes' words answered his question. Because Roy Mustang was human so he couldn't help caring for Ed, worrying about him … it didn't matter if Ed was a persocom, whether he was alive or not ... human beings _cared_ because they just _did._

Mustang's voice brought him back to the present, "Oh well... shame though to waste all that money for a present you don't want. I guess I'll have to give it back now–"

"Alright, Mustang. I'll have it!"

Roy smirked, "Good. I knew you'd say that."

"Don't you start with that crap," Edward growled as he pulled the ring out of the box and examined it, mesmerized again by its splendour. He noticed that the silver had been carved with curling patterns and swirls before realising something utterly ridiculous.

He didn't know how to put on a ring.

It was so stupid! How could he not _know_! He'd seen how the rings were worn by women before. It's not like there was a _book_ that had _instructions_ on how to put on your _ring_, right?!!

Roy noticed the blank, lost expression on Edward's face. He sighed before reaching over to grab the blonde's left hand and the ring.

"Hey! What the -!" Edward started protesting before Roy shoved the ring into his left ring finger (he thought the right metal hand wouldn't suit) and firmly held his hand up for him to see. The golden eyes belonging to the persocom widened as he stared admiringly at the ring on his finger, not even aware that Roy was still holding onto his hand. The dark-haired man smirked at the way the blonde was staring now. At the moment, Roy cherished how pleased he was with his plan.

Then, Edward shifted his gaze onto him. As if suddenly held by some force, he found his eyes locked on that golden colour, those eyes, staring straight back at him. He wasn't even aware that his breathing had slowed down and that he wasn't able to look away. A gentle, mutual understanding briefly passed between them, connecting them for that moment. A moment which was followed by a _curiously _long silence as the two continued staring at one another. Roy, unaware that he was half-conscious, tilted his face towards Edward's, almost as if he was trying to lose himself in those endless pools of gold.

Edward's lips moved, "Mustang."

All of a sudden, they were back in reality. He recognized that they were standing by the sink and that the front of Edward's jacket was wet from the washing up. He noticed that his hand was still holding up Ed's.

The blonde unexpectedly pulled his hand out of Roy's grasp and looked down at the ring he was wearing. There was a peculiarly _odd_ look on his face and it seemed as if the blonde was trying not to look at him. Roy realised that he was trying not to look at Edward as well and that his head was feeling weirdly light all of a sudden.

"Mustang, you should go to bed. I need to go back to work."

Roy found that he didn't quite feel like going upstairs. Somehow, he wanted a quiet time to himself right now. "Ed, I think you should go and recharge. _I'll _clean up. Besides, you can't wash up if you're wearing a ring."

Edward slowly looked up and met his gaze. The blonde looked surprised at the offer. Then, he nodded and passed Roy, heading towards the door.

"Mustang?" Roy stilled in attention without turning around to face Ed. Somehow, he knew that Edward wasn't even looking at him as he spoke.

"Thanks. I really like the ring."

Then he left.

In the silent, well-lit kitchen, Roy hadn't moved from his spot. He was staring at nothing in particular although his mind was deep in mixed thoughts: about the party, Hughes, Hakuro and the other businessmen, the ring, Edward's reaction, the strange, understanding silence between them, Edward actually _thanking _him for his present …

A small, celebrated smile crawled up Roy's lips and followed by a tiny hint of a blush. It was nice to know that Edward was happy because of him.

* * *

**(end chapter)**

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**Notes: **

Wow, that was a surprisingly fast update – two chapters posted! You LUCKY PEOPLE! I was motivated! I found this chapter extremely hard to write, especially about Ed's questions. I got the meaning but I couldn't describe it in words so please forgive me if you don't understand this chapter. You can ask me if you're still confused. The last sentence of this chapter: "It was nice to know that Edward was happy because of him"links to what Hughes had said earlier, notice that? Of _course_ you do, you clever people!

I noticed the party was quite uninteresting. I just _can't _bear thinking of all the adults there singing happy birthday to Ed – it sounded so cheesy. I only planned to give Ed a birthday party so he could learn more about being human and of course, experience a nice moment with Roy. I actually really liked the way Roy just slipped the ring onto his finger and held it up for Ed to see it. And then after that moment is broken, they're both left feeling strange and light-headed.

Aanyway, I bet you all thought they were going to kiss, huh? Unlucky! (laughs cruelly)

Please, please tell me your views on this chapter before reading the next one! THANK YOU!


	13. Twelve

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

* * *

**-12-**

He was pacing around his room in the dark, not caring if he was using up his battery power when he was supposed to be recharging them. He could hear Mustang moving in the kitchen downstairs and ignored it. His metal hand was absent-mindedly fingering the ring on his left finger as he continued pacing. He was in a state of confused frenzy and light-headedness as the flow of _emotions – since when did he start having emotions? – _invaded through his form. He could only describe it as madness. What was this he was feeling? What was happening to him? It was so strange of him to react emotionally towards things. Back there, he found that he couldn't speak, couldn't to look at Mustang, didn't want to see what his expression was … and the _feeling_! He realised that it was something like embarrassment!

When they had looked at each other at that time, Edward found himself understanding Mustang in a way he thought he never would. It was a comfortably strange feeling. And it was warm. It even _felt _warm inside him.

Why could he _feel_?

He knew he was different from the other persocoms the moment he woke up. Not just because he possessed artificial senses that enabled him touch but another program that triggered _feelings_, _emotions_, reactions… He often wondered why he was given these. If so, what was his purpose in being created? It couldn't just be for him to experience emotions … there had to be another side to it … his inventor's side to the reason behind his creation.

He wanted to know … no, he _needed _to know. So _badly_. But how? He didn't want to ask Mustang about it. The dark-haired man would want to tag along with him. This was _his _business. He didn't need someone's help. Edward could think for himself.

The next morning, he requested to come along to work with Mustang. His user looked surprised and at the same time slightly suspicious. After all, Edward had complained it was boring in the man's office watching him sort out piles of paperwork on his desk.

"I want to look at the sort of stuff you go through," the persocom explained. "I'm sick of just staying home and reading the same old books in the house."

"Fine," Mustang muttered as he stacked his plates up and placed them into the sink. They left the house and reached the office, where Hawkeye had already deposited a fresh pile of papers on the desk. Edward restrained his excitement. Since Mustang worked in a gadgets company, he could search the products and research for a sign of a software program which enabled a persocom 'free-will'. Once he found it, he would then be able to discover who created it and the rest was up to him.

It was a perfect idea.

He searched through papers, taking in every single detail and report and finding not quite what he was looking for. Prise Gadgets Enterprises sold electronic devices, not exactly persocoms, and they mostly ran on microchips and not exactly software programs either. As time took its toll, Edward found nothing.

"Do you know a company that sells persocoms?" he absent-mindedly asked Mustang who was typing up a report on the desk computer.

Roy looked at Edward. The blonde had been acting strange this morning as if he was excited and serious at the same time. He had the impression that Edward was up to something. He answered quietly, "There's Hinoba Industries. They're the biggest to produce persocoms in dozens of models."

He watched Edward nod and turn back to his reading. Roy continued staring at the persocom suspiciously before returning back to his typing.

Just as more time passed by, it was lunchtime. Roy sighed as he stared at the pile of papers still remaining on his desk. He was very tired and yearned for a break but he needed to finish sorting out this pile before lunchtime period was over …

"I'll do it, okay Mustang? You go grab your lunch. I'll finish all this for you."

Roy fixed his stare on the calm-looking Edward on his office couch. There _was _something suspicious going on with the blonde.

"What?" the persocom snapped, noticing the apprehensive look Roy was giving him. "Don't stare at me like that! I'm just … returning the favour. It's no big deal."

Well … that would at least make a little sense. Roy found it a little awkward that Ed was being nice to him after that birthday party last night but he found that he liked it nonetheless. However, a small bubble of suspicion still remained of the blonde. He told himself he'd deal with him later on.

When Mustang had left, Edward sat himself down on the office chair behind the desk. He scavenged through the desk drawers until he found what he was looking for – an external cord. Inserting the end of the cord to the port under his boot, he stuck the other end of the cord to Mustang's desk computer system. Now he was connected to the company's database. He waited as his system scanned through numerous files, reports and codes in seconds and couldn't find what he wanted. Using Mustang's system and his own, he managed to get into the Hinoba Industries database and began his search for the 'free-will' program there.

Nothing … absolutely nothing. There were no records of having a 'free-will' program being manufactured at all whether or not it was still in research. There were a few programs that enabled artificial emotions but they were of the limited kind and were according to the persocom's personality. Edward's artificial emotions program was far more advanced than these!

He looked through more electronic company databases and found the same result. Finally deciding that he had to leave it for now, Edward disconnected himself from Mustang's system and stuffed the external cord back into the drawer. He realised that he only had ten minutes to start sorting the pile of papers on Mustang's desk before the man came back from lunch.

**OoOoO**

That afternoon, he found himself in the clattered shop of Rockbell FiXers located smack in the middle of Central. He found himself disgusted that he had brought himself here, of all places. He had already vowed to himself that he would stay away from Winry Rockbell if it was the last thing he'd do. But his determination to find out about himself pushed him to go.

Winry Rockbell was surprised to find the blonde persocom on his own and visiting her shop on a cold day like this. She greeted him politely and offered to check on his system's performance and maintenance just in case and the persocom just rolled his eyes and let her. He suddenly regretted it later when he noticed the hungry, excited looks that Winry was giving him as she checked his structure. He could guess how much she really wanted to take him apart.

"Look, Winry," he said as he suspiciously watched Winry examine his metal arm. "You know when you woke me up all those weeks ago? I remembered something that you were saying about a persocom who could decide for itself."

"Oh that?" she said with interest. "Yeah, I think it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Can you imagine how incredible it would be if we knew _how _to make that sort of program and system that you have? If you weren't so encrypted, we'd know how and where the program was made. If you let me, I'll be glad to disassemble you so we could find out –"

"_Stay _away," Edward warned before relaxing when she looked disappointed that her offer was rejected. "Just tell me more about this persocom."

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" Winry demanded nosily.

"Just curious."

It took a while before the girl gave in. "There's not much to know about it, Ed. Some people said it was a rumour while others say it actually happened. Someone made a persocom who could decide for itself – like you. That type of persocom was the first that was ever made and it was done in secret. Then, the War broke out and things were getting dangerous. The inventor of the persocom was said to be involved with the Military and he gave into the idea that his persocom should be used in the War. There was a problem with the persocom – it malfunctioned, I think, and then broke down. That was the last thing that was ever heard about it."

"That was _it_? Is that the only thing you know about it? Do you know why the persocom broke down?"

Winry shrugged her shoulders, "Not a clue."

Edward fell silent as he gathered his thoughts together. If the persocom was used in the Civil War a decade ago, then that meant that the 'free-will' and advanced artificial emotions programs had been made before. But like Mustang had said if the program existed ten years ago, why weren't the other persocoms installed with them yet? Why haven't the other persocom and software companies made them?

Was it because the data about the program got lost like Winry had said?

He needed to get more information about the War. But where could he get it?

"You know if you're interested, you could find out at the National Library down the road."

"Thanks Winry. And can you please stop trying to unscrew my arm?"

**OoOoO**

The National Library was gigantic with marble pillars and staircases, smart wooden tables and chairs and rows and rows of endless books stacked against the walls, towering over him. He proceeded to the reception area and asked if he could borrow an external cord for the library supercomputers. Settling himself on the farthest active supercomputer away from persons, he connected himself to the library database.

The National Library here in Central stored not just books but records, articles, references and information for almost everything. It was said that Military files were also stored securely in the database but it was only accessible to authorized personnel. Edward, being a persocom of advanced level, managed to get himself into the Military files of Amestris. He searched for information about the Civil War ten years ago and scanned for any records that showed the use of persocoms for war purposes. They were plenty – persocoms used for desk jobs, reporting missions but they were only ordinary persocoms with outdated programs. He continued the scan until he found what he was looking for.

There was a record of the details of a persocom that was marked as top secret. The file was locked, encrypted and protected by a security password. Edward realised that if this persocom's files were heavily guarded, it meant it _must _be the one that Winry was referring to. Edward decided that he was so close to snatching the clue and he was going in.

Yes, going in as in hacking in, of course. He never told Mustang that he could hack into secured areas like these. He began the process …

Something was wrong. He felt himself being pushed out as a defence system suddenly activated. He cursed for being careless and before he could retreat, the supercomputer's screen flashed red:

INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!

Panic gripped him as he yanked the cord out of the port under his boot, cutting off the connection. The screen continued to flash red and before he could move, there was a thundering of footsteps and he came face to face with five burly security guards, all armed with weapons, and the library receptionist.

"Young man," she said sternly. "You are under arrest for attempting to break into top secret Military files."

**OoOoO**

Roy had just finished typing up his report when the phone rang.

"What is it, Hawkeye?"

"Sir, it's a call from the National Library, line two."

Pressing the number two button on the phone, he met the voice of a man, "Are you Roy Mustang?"

"Yes."

"I'm Doc Harrison, head of security in the National Library. I'm sorry to be bothering you, sir. But we have a problem here concerning your persocom. Can you please come as soon as possible?"

**OoOoO**

When he saw Mustang, he found the dark-haired man calm and serious. They were in Harrison's security office where said man was sitting behind his desk and Mustang and Edward sat side by side opposite him. The office had cold white walls that contrasted against the golden glamour of the Library's reading room downstairs. Harrison had explained to Mustang what had happened and Edward took note of the mask of impassivity on the dark-haired man's face and that Harrison hadn't averted his gaze away from Mustang's throughout the explanation. Somehow, in this white office, there was wavering tension in the air and Edward didn't know why.

It wasn't _his_ fault that he happened to get caught. He didn't know that the defence system protecting that file had alarms! He tried to convince these security guards that he happened to wander in the database by _accident_. He had explained to them that he was a persocom, even showing them the port under his boot for proof. Although the suspicions decreased, they still weren't convinced of his story.

He was forced to tell them who his user was and then Mustang was summoned to the Library. He had wondered what these guys were going to do to him if they didn't believe his story but relaxed a little at the arrival of his user. He told himself that Mustang would confirm that he was in fact, harmless and then they would stroll off home and all of this would then be forgotten.

"Mr. Mustang," Harrison said. "Do you know why your persocom happened to be accessing the Military database?"

"I could suggest a few things, one of them being he stumbled in there by accident."

Edward beamed. You see, smart ass?

Harrison continued, "He was found trying to get into top secret Military files. Our defence program for such files could detect a hacking when they come across one, you know. Do you have an explanation for _this_?"

"Hey," Edward interrupted, annoyed that the matter was still continuing. Mustang had confirmed his reasons already. Why were they pushing it even further? "I wasn't hacking," he lied. "I didn't even know it was locked–"

"Edward," Mustang suddenly spoke, stopping his words. His expression didn't change but he did shoot a look at the blonde. Mustang cleared his throat and replied, "I understand what you're saying, sir. But I wasn't aware that Edward here was in the Library and that he was straying into Military database. I had nothing to do with this at all."

Edward felt his anger rise. Mustang made it sound as if it really _were _Edward's fault! The ungrateful bastard! He was making the situation even worse!

"Why are you bla–" the blonde started to say when he suddenly felt Mustang place a hand over his own. He stopped again, surprised at the gesture.

"However, it could be possible that someone else is behind this," the dark-haired man said, not tearing his eyes away from Harrison's. "After all, Edward _is_ a persocom, a computer. And computers can be easily hacked into." Edward blinked at what his user was saying, trying to understand what was going on.

"You're proposing that your persocom may be controlled by an outside connection?" Harrison raised his eyebrows. "And they are using him to sabotage through Military files? Do you have any proof of this, sir?"

At this, Mustang finally turned to Edward and the blonde saw the unchanged impassive expression still on his face. He had never seen Mustang so _serious_ before. "Edward," the man spoke. "Do you remember how you accessed into the Military database? They require some sort of code to get in."

"What … code?" Edward blinked. He certainly didn't remember confirming a code when he got into the database. He just _happened _to get in, that's all.

"You see. Present day persocoms are able to identify codes and recall them. Edward may indeed have had his systems hacked into and the intrusion has affected his recall about it. Ed, did you meet anyone today when you left the office?"

"Yeah …" the persocom was still confused at all this. "I went to Win-"

"So the person may have done something to you, enabling themselves to hack and proceed to sabotage Military files. I've been working at Prise Gadgets long enough to know all this."

Then Edward suddenly understood what was going on. Harrison didn't give a _damn _about Ed's reasons. He had suspicions on Mustang! He thought it was _Mustang_ who had ordered him, Edward, to hack into the Military database. And here, Mustang was trying to bail them _both _out!

When Harrison finally went along with the story (with Mustang promising he would find out who the hacker was), the two made their way downstairs. It wasn't until they were in the car and heading towards home that Edward spoke, his voice thoroughly excited.

"I can't _believe _you could come up with a story as smooth as that. That was close, you know? Did you make that code thing up just so I could say that I don't know what it was? I swore that Harrison was suspicious of us both but I'm glad we showed him, eh?"

Mustang suddenly pulled over on one side of the street. He finally turned to face Edward and the blonde's eyes widened. There was a strong, almost _frightening_ mix of expressions melded on Mustang's face, one being easiest to distinguish. And that expression made Edward reel back slightly.

It was cold anger.

"Can you tell me what the hell you were doing wandering around the _Military_ database?"

Ah. He had forgotten that Mustang would definitely try to get a reason out of him. Edward decided to use his lame old story, "I already told you, by accident–"

"Is it also by accident that you were trying to get into one of their secured files?" Mustang interrupted. "Amestris' Military happens to be strict, Edward. This is a _serious_ matter. You'll be severely punished if they catch you trespassing on their grounds. I don't get it, Ed. Are you _really _telling me the truth or is it something else? Have you been programmed to pry in Military work?"

Edward was taken aback at the questions Mustang was asking. What … what on earth was Mustang trying to say! The persocom scowled, "Just what are you–"

"Do you know _where _I got you?" Mustang continued, his voice actually shaking with anger. "From a _black_ market. I got you with _no_ inside information at all. I don't know what you're even capable of – so whatever features you've been installed with, it could be _anything_."

Again, sudden understanding was coming to him. Mustang didn't trust him! It made whole sense. Illegal black markets could've tweaked his systems a little and he could've been programmed to obtain valuable information from the Military or the Government for an outside source – maybe even for an enemy or a criminal! He was capable of betrayal!

He found himself horrified at the thought of someone using his abilities for something so criminal. But it wasn't as if he could really have a choice. After all, persocoms were merely _tools_. They were supposed to do what they were _programmed _to do. And Mustang was aware of this … and Mustang was trying not to trust him …

He didn't like the feeling of losing Mustang's _trust_ after that moment last night.

Roy was in a state of denial and betrayal. He didn't _want _to think that Edward had just been using him as a short-cut. But the possibilities were just _so_ likely. Those black market dealers could have sent him Edward in order for the persocom to obtain information for someone else.

"No, you got it all wrong," Edward said desperately. "I _chose _to look through the Military files. It was _my _decision. I wanted to confirm something but I got caught instead."

Edward saw Mustang looking a little relieved but still unconvinced. "Why?" he said, his voice dropping in volume. "Why did you?"

Edward paused his words, not sure if he wanted to tell Mustang. This was _his _business after all and Mustang really had no right to get involved. But he knew that he had to confess. For their sake.

He squirmed in his seat, "I wanted to know more information about the persocom used in the Civil War. I went to Winry's this afternoon and she told me the National Library should have them. I found a security protected file on a particular persocom that I'm _sure _was the one I was looking for but I didn't know there was a defence–"

"And you were stupid enough to try and see what's inside?"

"Uh –" Edward started, surprised at Mustang's interruption. He thought the man would be okay about this and just drop it. He didn't have to rub it in on him! "What's wrong? Look, I'll not do it again, okay? It's not as if–"

"Edward," Mustang cut in again. "That's not the point. It's the way you take on this that makes me _angry_! In the office, I found out that my computer had been connected to an outside system and I suspected it was you. WHY? Instead of getting yourself into trouble and waiting for me to bail you out, why the HELL DIDN'T YOU JUST ASK FOR MY HELP WITH THIS?!"

There was just silence in the car, the sounds being only their breathing. Roy felt absolutely _disappointed_ in the persocom. Why did Edward conduct research behind his back? Why was he being so secretive about this? Roy was _hurt_ because of it, frustrated, so worried that Edward shut him out because he didn't _trust_ him.

He thought they understood each other last night.

Edward finally realised how concerned Mustang had been for him. His offer for help wasn't because he thought Edward was a child capable of making mistakes, the man _wanted _to help because he cared.

He understood _perfectly _how Mustang was feeling right now.

Edward looked down, feeling deeply guilty for what he had done, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, his words lost.

* * *

**(end chapter)

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**Notes:**

I found this chapter also challenging to write. So, if confused, feel free to ask so I can explain it to you. To tell you the truth, my fave part of this chapter was the last part (it was the hardest to write) – when Roy and Ed have a little talk in the car. The part sorta evolved in a way. I wanted a scene where Roy was proper _angry_ at Ed – just like in Episode 43 when Roy yelled at Ed because he ran away without asking for his help. Anyway, both of them are making a big deal about trusting one another because they had an 'understanding moment' the night before.

Hey, I just noticed _this _Roy/Ed relationship is different! Whoa! I hope that's okay with you, guys! Because I quite like this relationship actually. What do _you _think?

The whole technology thing – database, defense systems … I have no clue about them. I'm not even sure I've used them correctly in this chappie.

I'd love to hear your views on this chappie! 'Till next update then!


	14. Thirteen

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

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**-13-**

They kept silent throughout the drive, their thoughts to themselves, their eyes avoiding each other's. Roy made his own dinner, much to Edward's surprise, before settling at the table and immersing himself in reading the sales reports from the office. Edward avoided the kitchen and kept himself in the empty living room by reading a thick book. After a few hours, Edward heard Roy emerge from the kitchen and head upstairs, and he managed to catch a quiet murmur of goodnight from the man.

The blonde remained on the couch and in the dark, the book now entirely forgotten. He was bedridden with guilt and shame and he occasionally cursed himself for being selfish and ignorant. He cursed himself again for having these emotions!

Despite knowing how angry, hurt and upset Mustang was with him, Edward's own emotions botheredhim even more. Why couldn't he stop feeling so damned _ashamed_? Why couldn't he bring himself upstairs and beg for the stupid bastard's forgiveness so he couldn't feel this bad _anymore_??

He stood up and turned towards the stairs – and the sight reminded him of the vision of a disappointed Mustang sauntering up those steps. Instantly, he froze in his tracks, feeling the wave of guilt come flowing back to him. He didn't want to face the man. No, he was just _afraid _of facing him – he didn't want to see those angry dark eyes on him, accusing him, framing him, shaming him. Edward held himself back, not sure what to do. A part of him _needed _to go upstairs and confront Mustang but yet he was afraid to. The other part _urged_ him to stay down here so their distances stayed apart. But he felt that he didn't want that either … oh god … what the hell was he supposed to _do_!

He covered his face with his hands, feeling frustrated at the struggles with his emotions. Suddenly he wanted to get out of the house. He didn't want to remain downstairs or upstairs. He didn't want to remain inside. He rushed to the front door, grabbing his red coat and flinging it on. In a second, he was out of the apartment building and onto the open street.

**OoOoO**

Roy Mustang couldn't sleep. He had been awake for the past hour after turning off the kitchen lights and climbing up the stairs to go to bed. He had been lying under the covers with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts circling repeatedly in his head. He didn't understand why he was so bothered about Edward. The persocom had indeed made him _angry _because of the stupid thing he did. And he was upset that Edward had done something behind his back. He wondered if he should explain to the persocom how he was feeling. After all, Edward was a _persocom _and wouldn't understand emotions unless explained.

Still, he marvelled at his ridiculous idea of trying to make the persocom understand how hurtful and disappointed he was. Why though? Why did he want to attempt so? Was it to hope that Edward would show compassion towards him? Or perhaps just gain some reaction to this? Had Roy not fully grasped the idea that Ed was a damn _persocom_?!

He thought he had heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. A second later, there was another sound of a door opening and closing. Roy blinked, realising that the first door had sounded from downstairs.

Edward...?

Edward!

He bolted out of bed and practically flew down the stairs, accidentally stumbling over a few steps. He found the living room and kitchen empty and he was suddenly aware that Edward's red coat, which previously hung from the coat hanger, was nowhere in sight.

A raw, sudden rush of panic hit him in the chest and he snatched up his own coat and boots, pulling them on and ran out the door and onto the empty street, cursing under his breath.

Why on earth did Edward _leave_? What crazy idea made him do this! Why? Why? WHY??!!

He kicked the base of the streetlamp hard, not really helping him with his problem and just earning him a bruise. Roy tried to clear his thoughts, tried not to panic, tried not to let the feeling of fear grip him. Edward shouldn't have gone far. The persocom could've gone to the city centre or the Library or …

His heart leapt up his throat when he saw a glimpse of blonde hair somewhere beyond the trees and barred gates that surrounded Central's Park. Heart pounding in his chest, he jogged into the still open park whose pathway was lit with small lamps (it was around eleven at night), his eyes locked on the figure sitting alone on a bench. As their distance closed, his pace slowed and he was able to distinguish the expression on Edward's face.

He paused, feeling his anger and panic die away. Edward was quiet, unmoving, his head down and his eyes fixed at the ring on his left finger. He looked utterly lost and miserable.

Roy was suddenly aware of how cold it was when a sudden gust of cold air rustled through him, startling his dark locks. He watched at the way Edward's blonde bangs fluttered about his cheeks before he silently sat himself down next to the blonde, feeling the warmth radiating from the persocom's body.

They sat still for a moment, not looking at each other but aware of the other's presence. Finally Roy spoke in a low voice, "You could've at least told me you were going out."

"I wanted some fresh air," the other replied without looking. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"I couldn't asleep anyway. And shouldn't you be recharging? I'm sure you're tired from all that hassle today."

Edward didn't answer to that. There was no need to. They fell into another pause. And then Roy spoke:

"I thought you ran away."

This time, Edward lifted his head in surprise and Roy took it as a sign to continue.

"I thought you just left, you know? And I found myself scared about it. I panicked and for a second, I hated you for leaving me like this. Then I hated myself for making you leave."

Edward's eyes widened, surprised that Mustang was really telling him this. A new sort of guilt came to him and he forced himself to respond to the confession, his voice quiet and apologetic:

"I ran out of the house…" he began. "Because I was afraid of facing you."

It was Roy's turn to be surprised. He turned his face to look at Edward.

The blonde let out a small chuckle, "I didn't know why. I wanted to apologize but I couldn't bring myself to see you. I don't know what your reaction would be. But at the same time, hesitating … hesitating just made it worse."

Edward's eyes met Roy's directly for the first time on that long night. It was reassuring and accepting at the same time. Their gazes lingered, expectant, as if they waited for the first one to speak. But there was no need for words. Their troubled wishes had been granted: Edward was definitely notleaving and Roy had accepted the sincere apology.

It was only when a small speck of white fluttered down from the sky and settled onto Edward's nose that made them break their eye contact. Roy and Edward glanced up at the same time to meet the sight of more snowflakes falling from the dark grey skies above them.

"It's snowing," Roy stated as he watched Edward's eyes shine with amazement and delight before the blonde held up his hands, metal and skinned, in order to let the snowflakes settle and melt on his palms. The persocom slowly closed his fingers over them and smiled.

"Mustang? I'd like you to help me with my investigation."

Roy smiled in return, feeling warm despite the numbness of his fingers. He rested his hand on Edward's shoulder and joined him in watching the snow flutter down around their bench in the quiet, serene park.

**OoOoO**

Despite his own paperwork, Roy decided that he needed help from Hughes concerning Edward's investigation. He and Edward were back on their normal routine – Edward complaining again about his lack of activities just staying at home and Roy having to put up with his annoying bickering early in the morning. Outside, the snow had build up to two inches, covering Central in a shimmering sheet of white.

Now Roy found himself in the company's Research Department, sitting on the sofa outside Hughes' office (because the man hadn't arrived yet) and before him was a desk where Hughes' new secretary sat. Roy had never seen her around before and she looked quite peculiar. With short, mousy auburn hair and green eyes hidden behind thick framed glasses, she looked jittery and nervous. The name plate sitting on her desk told him her name was "Scieszka".

Roy tapped his foot impatiently and glanced at his watch. He had come to work extra early today so he could catch Hughes and he was due back to his office at half past.

Hughes' secretary picked up a pile of papers and stood up to deliver them into Hughes' office. As she returned with another pile, she tripped, letting out a squeak, and fell onto the floor, sending papers scattering about and leaving her glasses askew from her nose.

Roy got up and asked if she was alright.

"Ah … I-I'm fine, thank you sir. I usually trip sometimes because I'm very clumsy," she chattered, fixing her glasses straight and proceeding to gather up the papers before moaning, "Oh no! They used to be in order! Now I have to sort them all out again!"

Roy blinked at her before offering to help. "Have you started work recently?" he small-talked politely.

"Oh yes, sir!" she piped up with excitement before her bright features crumbled, "I got fired before because I wasn't doing my job properly. You see, I used to work at the National Library organising references and records for the supercomputers. But I've always loved being in the Library's reading room. Being too long in there caused them to fire me. I needed the money to send to my mother, who is ill. So I decided to be a secretary and Mr. Hughes kindly hired me for it."

"Oh …" Roy uttered, surprised at the unexpected extended speech she had given him. He wasn't keen on having someone reveal that much about their lives on their first meeting. She was certainly a funny girl to be working here of all places. "So, you seem to have an interest in books if you loved the Library's reading room–"

"Of course!" she nodded with new excitement in her eyes. "Even though I've only worked there for two years, I've already read a quarter of the books in the reading room! All three hundred and eleven on the east wing! I wanted to continue but I've got my own books to read at home. I keep buying new ones all the time and it's hard to organize them. I have about five hundred and twenty-three books now and they won't fit my shelves so I had to put them around the house – although it's quite small so there's not much space to walk around–"

Just in time, Hughes strolled into the department with Elicia on his shoulder and saving Roy from listening to the rest of Scieszka's endless rattling. Seriously, who reads a quarter of the Library's books in two years? Who buys books that filled up their house?

"Oh hi Roy! Scieszka!"

"Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!" Elicia squealed, bowing cutely.

"Mr. Hughes! Elicia!" Scieszka jumped to her feet and dropping her papers onto the floor again. "G-good morning, sir!"

"So," Hughes averted his attention on his best friend. "What brings you here in the morning? It's rare of you to come and see me like this."

"I'd like a favour, Maes," Roy answered and the other man grinned.

"Well why didn't you say so? Come into my office!"

Hughes' office was slightly smarter than Roy's. A sofa and coffee table at one side, a large desk stood in front of a bookcase and a desk computer. At the other side of the room was a whiteboard with a graph scribbled on it in red marker pen, a few filling cabinets and a water tank. What was so distinguishable about this office were the photographs.

There were printed photographs of his family posted _everywhere_ – on the coffee table and the desk, there were photographs in picture frames; on the walls were posters of the family together on holiday and on picnics; there was even an Elicia sticker stuck on the desk computer.

Indeed. The office sure did scream 'Hughes' alright.

"Like them? They're just adorable, aren't they? I've just printed the new digital pictures from the birthday party and they came out so great. I'm thinking of putting them here so I can gaze at how cute Elicia looked back there. You'd love that, won't you, Elicia?" he tousled his persocom's hair.

Roy sighed, sitting himself on the couch and Hughes finally let him speak.

"It's Edward," the dark-haired man said, crossing his arms. "He wants to find out who made him." From that, Roy explained what Edward had done, trying to hack into Military files for details on a persocom and searching for the advanced artificial emotions software program. Hughes looked surprised that Edward was able to do all this on his own and at the same time interested that Roy wanted to help him.

"So you want me to lend you guys a helping hand?" Hughes smiled, recognizing the determined look on Roy's face about this matter. "That's great! Of course I'll help! I'll keep an eye out on things. What do you want me to find out?"

Roy almost chuckled, "If it's possible to access Military persocom files from the last Civil War."

"Ah," Hughes rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry to say... You know as well as I do that Military files are off limits to us."

"Yeah but," Roy sighed. "If there was _just_ a confirmation that a persocom with a 'free-will' program existed in the War …"

He knew it was going to be difficult. He thanked Hughes afterwards when he realised he had to go back to his office before Hawkeye would tell him off. Just as he passed Scieszka, he suddenly remembered something.

"Scieszka," he swiftly turned and the secretary startled from her work and out of her seat. When she picked herself up, she was blushing madly, "Y-yes, sir?"

Roy paused for a moment before speaking, "You said you organize references for the supercomputers when you still worked at the National Library, right? Did you also organize Military files?"

"U-um, yes sir, I was in charge of their past records and all but they really weren't quite interesting as –"

"Did you organize Military files on Amestris' past civil wars? Like the last one?"

"Yes sir, and –"

"Then I wonder if you could confirm something for me."

"Anything, sir. I have a photographic memory that I'm not sure if I should be proud of or not. Since reading is all that I do, I could remember many things and all … although I get teased for it. It's not as if –"

"Alright Scieszka," Roy reassured, not wanting to hear the very long, irrelevant answers. "Do you know of a persocom used in the War that had 'free will'?"

"Free will?" her green eyes widened behind her glasses. "A persocom with free will? In the War? Let me see … " she tapped her chin with a finger as her face screwed up in concentration. Roy's lips tightened, not sure if he was going to get an answer.

"I remember!" she suddenly piped up with excitement. "I remember a report stating that this persocom used in the War began to stop following orders. The files were extremely confidential though and protected. There was also a file confirming that that persocom was invented by a person with the initials 'TJM', although I don't know what they stand for."

He felt new confidence in having obtained the valuable information. "Do _you _remember anything else in that file?"

Scieszka looked thoughtful again before shaking her head, "I'm afraid not. The files tagged with those initials seem extremely important and private because they'd been heavily encrypted with a security code by Professor Gilleroy Creator."

"Professor Gilleroy Creator? The guy who makes those top security software programs? But he's not part of the Military …" Roy found it quite strange actually. Gilleroy Creator was known to be a very private person. He didn't seem like the sort of guy to get involved with encrypting Military files with heavy security.

He realised that it was all the information that he needed for now. He gratefully thanked the flustered Scieszka and returned to the office, only to meet the annoyed Riza Hawkeye with a fresh new pile of paperwork and Black Hayate, ready at her heels.

**OoOoO**

"The initials were 'TJM'."

"What?"

Roy blinked when he saw the alert expression forming on Edward's face when he returned home to inform the blonde of his exploits.

"Ed, what is it?"

Edward looked up at him, his eyes looking dangerously serious and determined. "I need you to come with me."

They left the house again and Roy followed Edward into the snow covered park. He struggled to catch up with the impatient persocom and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the black marbled memorial ring.

Edward pointed at one of the slabs, "See? 'TJM' stands for _Timothy J. Marcoh _who was a _Military _doctor _and_ a _computer _expert. Who would've thought it was easy enough to figure that out?"

Roy was bewildered at this. Edward was right … who would've thought …

"So this Marcoh guy created the persocom with a 'free-will' program. Could it be possible that he made _you_?" Roy mused out loud.

"It could be. Hey, do you think _I _was the persocom in that war? I mean _I _have 'free will', right? And you said so before that you got me from a black market."

Roy looked at Edward who was excited and yet looked disbelieved at the same time. He admitted he enjoyed this actually. But one thing bothered him … why would Marcoh protect his persocom files so heavily? If he worked for the Military, his work would be used for their purposes and not be locked up like this.

"Too bad Marcoh's already dead, huh?" Roy sighed, looking up at the carving on the marble slab. "Then he could answer our questions…"

Edward suddenly tugged on his sleeve, his eyes were wide and he was _grinning, _"I know who we could ask instead."

"Really, Edward? Now who might that be?"

"Prisoner number 7906," the blonde announced triumphantly. "Zolf J. Kimblee."

**OoOoO**

The Central Prison was located at the far end of the city. It was a large square area consisting of many blocks and surrounded by high walls. Everywhere they turned, security guards strolled around the area with rifles poised in their arms. Even Edward felt the uneasiness in the air.

They were in the main building, waiting on the other side of the glass where they were allowed to speak to the prisoners through intercom. He and Edward had settled themselves in a pair of seats and watched as two prisoner guards dragged a grey uniformed clad Kimblee onto the seat facing them. Kimblee had grown a stubble and his loose dark hair curtained half his face. His amber eyes narrowed maliciously at Roy and when they switched to Edward, they filled with a dull hatred.

"Evening," Roy said, not sure how he should start. "I'm sure you remember us, Mr. Kimblee–"

"Why shouldn't I?" the man answered in a sarcastic tone. "After you dragged me back here, of course I remember you both."

"We'd like you to answer a few questions," Edward started, taking on a calm and stern approach that mirrored Roy's when the man was interviewed by Harrison at the Library. "It's about the Civil War ten years ago."

A slow, sick grin snaked up Kimblee's lips while the prisoner tipped his head back as if trying to recall the memories from the War. He chuckled lowly, "Yes, _that. _Was one of the best times of my life. The explosions, the shooting, the fighting – I was in charge of the bombing, y'know? Blowing up those enemies into pieces was the highlight of my days. So, what about it?"

"Do you know of a man named Timothy J. Marcoh?"

"Tim Marcoh, eh?" Kimblee nodded, examining his fingernails. "He was the softest of the lot. He didn't like fighting much. Don't know why he signed up for the Military anyway … he didn't particularly like me and all."

"He made a persocom that was used in the War, right?"

At once, Kimblee's face that was previously cool and careless became dark and angry. His amber eyes focused on Ed's and the persocom shrank back at the hatred contained in those eyes. Roy decided to take over the questions.

"What do you know about this persocom, Mr. Kimblee?"

"Know?" Kimblee laughed coldly with no hint of amusement in his voice. "I know a lot about that piece of trash. He was made into a soldier, like us. The Generals saw him as perfect because he could do all these things. He was in our unit as well and we went on undercover missions to reduce our enemies. He was one noisy sonuvabitch, always questioning about things – why are we at war? Why are we killing others? What is the point of all this? And we keep tellin' him it's because we have orders and we had to obey.

"And _what _exactly does he say to that? What's the point of having free will when all we do is obey pointless orders? He was like Marcoh – didn't approve of him slaying others, didn't like it when I blow up things. He said it _hurts_ him inside, it made him feel guilty to think that what he was created for was to destroy. So finally, he got up and went against us, went against orders. He had enough of this, of us, of himself – I remembered he confronted Marcoh and asked him why he was given emotions and free will while all _we_ did with ours was abuse them..."

"Wait, he had _emotions_?" Roy echoed his words in alarm. Beside him, Edward's eyes had widened too. A stray thought rolled across his mind as he glanced at the blonde: _The persocom...could it be...?_

"I nearly got killed because of him. We were ambushed one time and the enemy was about to pull a trigger on me. I ordered that damn persocom to stop the enemy, to shoot and kill him but he just hesitated. I had to fight my way out afterwards – yelled at him because he nearly let me die. He said he hesitated because he knew when he pulled the trigger, he was going to see bloodshed. And he didn't like it at all. Stupid, stupid _shit_ …"

Amber eyes were narrowed into slits and his upper lip was lifted into a snarl. He continued in a low voice, "Heshouldn't have been made at all. If being human is too much to handle, if feeling hurt all the time is too much, then he's just better off being dead. Eventually he did. He left us and rumours say that he destroyed himself. I was furious at this. I still had a damn score to settle with that guy. But he just left! That coward!"

Kimblee's face darkened even more when he finally spoke in a chillingly cold hiss, "I should've killed him when I could … that bastard, Scar."

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**end chapter**

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**Notes: **

I could get used to this. Oh dear – Scar and Kimblee as old pals? Marcoh created Scar? What sort of crazy ideas am I _thinking_!

I finished writing this in one night actually. The first part of this chapter – another RoyEd moment - originally wasn't in here when I planned this chappie up but I decided I wanted to continue the angst. They both sorta hurt each other in a way (more of Ed hurting Roy's feelings than the other way around) but you get the point. You could notice that both of them was scared about something referring to each other but it turned out okay in the end. I just _had _to put that snowing scene in! I remembered watching the second FMA ending and the snowflakes scene was stuck in my head all day. I loved this part!

Aanyway: -

New people: Scieszka, Marcoh, Scar.

Old stuff from previous chappies being used here: Marcoh's memorial and Kimblee. Of _course_ I introduced them earlier for this! Notice how the technique seems familiar - come on, people! They didn't introduce us Lior in the first episode for nothing! It wasn't as if they didn't reintroduced Shou Tucker and Barry the Chopper in later episodes!

I also loved describing Hughes' office! I could just picture all those family photographs plastered everywhere! Bless him!

I'd love to hear your comments on this chapter! 'Till next update!


	15. Fourteen

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09

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**

Dear, deary me … I am dreadfully sorry for the late update everyone! When I first wrote up Chapter 14, I absolutely hate it to bits that I didn't want to rewrite it until a strike of motivation hits me. After reading a couple of excellently written YGO fics, I decided I should give this chappie another go and ended up adding too much that I had to cut the chapter in half – okay, so it's only 6 pages but I'm TIRED!

Anyway, this was probably one of my most difficult chapters to write. Nothing much happens but you find out some things and it _does_ get a bit angsty. Anyway, I'll talk later. You guys should just go ahead and read!**

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-14-

"Scar?" Roy uttered, startled at the discovery. "You mean the soldier you wanted to kill was actually a _persocom_?" For once, Roy paused to ponder upon the confession, not surely believing what Kimblee was saying. So this certain persocom, alias Scar, had been the one responsible for the manufacture of Kimblee's hatred and rage – the very same rage that he tried to take out on Edward during the episode in that empty alley?

"Bingo," Kimblee nodded, as if he was also answering the questions floating freely in Roy's mind. "I bet you were wondering why I wanted to kill Little Miss Blondie here," he sneered, averting his gaze to Edward's. Edward, seeing the accusing hue of amber on him, bristled slightly, genuinely provoked by the contemptuous tone in Kimblee's voice. However, somewhere in his conscious, he felt a tug of uneasiness emerge. The words that Kimblee had spoken so smoothly earlier on had been stated before … back in that alleyway … Ed recalled it as easily as if it had happened yesterday …

"_Oh it is fair alright. They shouldn't even be made at all. If being human is too much to handle, then it's better off being dead."_

But before the rest of his notions could gather upon this, Roy had already continued speaking.

"What happened to Marcoh after the War?" he continued. "Was he still in the Military?"

Kimblee leaned back onto his seat and placed his hands behind his head, a sign that he was generally relaxed and compliant to any question that was launched at him. "He left afterwards. Actually, he left _during _the War. That's the last thing I've heard of him. After Scar ditched us, Marcoh decided to join him as well –" He then let out a gauche chuckle, soft yet intimidating. "Those two were almost the same. They didn't like war and the killing, and they left without Official Leave. Like inventor, like creation, eh?"

_Like user, like persocom. _Roy shot a quick glance over at Edward, formulating the perception of how the blonde and himself had similar characteristics as opposed to the dislikes shared by Marcoh and Scar. Roy and Edward were both stubborn beings, frankly big-headed at times and often couldn't stand each other if one of them initiated a pointless argument.

Beside him, Edward cleared his throat for Kimblee's attention. Roy suddenly laid his full awareness on the blonde when he realised the somewhat nervous, almost troubled look laced in the persocom's features. Just _what _had Kimblee had said that seemed to shake him?

"What sort of abilities could Scar do?"

Kimblee raised his eyebrow in formidable disbelief. "Don't _tell_ me you don't know!" He sat up from his chair and placed his palms onto the surface of the table, a means of support for him to lean towards the glass at Edward's direction. The persocom stiffened at this unexpected response but chose not to move, feeling a wash of gradual shame towards his ignorance. "You're a similar one to Scar and you have _no idea _what you're capable of doing?" The prisoner pressed.

Edward cringed at the critical tone, not to mention at the wavering stares directed from both the men surrounding him. True as it was, Edward never once tapped into the extent of his technological features, but only considered to do so when it was useful towards _him _and not his user. But now that he was facing a clarification to what was _perhaps _the purpose of his very existence, he clearly did not know exactly what he was capable of. And because of how similar Kimblee had compared him towards Scar, Ed had a sinking feeling about his subsequent findings.

Nonetheless, the persocom merely looked down with slight embarrassment and frowned at his clasped hands that rested agitatedly on his lap. "Just … tell us, okay?"

"Fine," the prisoner replied, adopting back into his docile state. "As a prototype, Scar could control the enemy's technology thus turning it against them. By taking over their weapons and their resources, we were able to conquer their ground much faster. He had built-in weapons of the latest technology. He could blow up things within a hundred yards in seconds without damaging himself. We took over many enemy control centres and let him break into their system to seize their information. From that, we knew the enemy's positions, their strategies, and their movements. Every step he took in the battlefield, he destroyed, he _killed _– and from that, we had won every battle because of his power … Oh, and as for the prisoners we captured …"

A distant, sick grin broke out of Kimblee's face, crediting his words with terrible hilarity. "We didn't even need to torment 'em to get information – _he _did it for us. So we would just sit back and examine him do the most disgusting ways of torture and watch the poor bastard of a prisoner squirm and beg for him to stop."

Substantially, Edward shut his eyes as a means of attempting to block the merciless tone in those words. What Scar had done was absolutely indescribable to him. A persocom built to function for war – War, a hellish term to represent destruction, brutal assaults, uncanny division of nations and societies. What use would life be if your sole purpose in creation was to destroy? War brought out the worst of things, not only in humans but even in machines such as persocoms like him. And Scar … if Scar possessed a similar, if not identical, ability of 'free will' and emotions, then he would also understand that his wrath brought no good to the world …

"We had advantage because of him," continued Kimblee, but his quiet volume did not fully pull Edward out of his current thoughts. "We were winning the war so quickly that the enemy couldn't believe it - they were practically pissing in their pants. I even thought that once we take over the state, we could even take over others. We could take over the entire _country_ by force if we wanted to! We had Scar! Everything was perfect–"

… If Edward just imagined himself in Scar's shoes, he would definitely have felt the inhibitor dislodge from his emotive conscience once gallons of blood spilled on the streets, once the pathetic cries of the living penetrated through his stoic defences, once the image of overwhelming apocalypse literally _scarred _into his mind.

Edward _knew _that he was capable of doing the same thing.

"Until he realised it was _wrong_."

Both older men turned to the blonde who had spoken. The answer coming from Edward was a simple one that left a frighteningly grim and chilly waver in the air. Unbeknownst to Edward, the persocom shook uncontrollably from Kimblee's words as those desolate orbs of gold slowly ascended to meet sinister, amber ones. "He grew _feelings_, didn't he?" the blonde pressed, his eyes now wide and hollow. "He couldn't take it anymore … it was too … disturbing …"

Roy stared at Edward in startled bewilderment at the blonde's behaviour, not to mention he almost _gaped_, at that twisted expression that had settled on the teenager's face. The troubling air that radiated from Edward had intensified. From Roy's form, a bubble of strong concern towards Edward appeared along with a faint resentment directed towards Kimblee. Whatever this slippery, shifty man had said to upset Edward, Roy would not disregard it without haste. After all, he certainly didn't expect Ed to be _this_ affected by Kimblee's descriptions. The persocom looked absolutely _horrified _despite the tint of an underlying smile that implied no amusement on his face.

Edward, shaken as he was, kept his eyes locked on Kimblee's amber ones – those eyes that challenged, mocked and worst of all, spoke the truth. As troubling as it seemed, the most disturbing thought that he had conjured was his haunting acceptance of Kimblee's words. Just from gazing into those reflecting shades of dark amber, he saw faint images of the horrors (or in Kimblee's place, pleasures) of that war. And that hatred – that overwhelming _hatred – _towards the humanoid entity named Scar.

That same hatred that was shown towards him right now.

"Edward?" He heard Roy's concerned voice beside him. "Ed, are you alright?"

Of course not, Mustang. Of course he was not alright. How could Mustang not guess what he was going through? How could the older man, who was a _human being_, not make sense of Kimblee's words if Ed could? Despite this, Edward replied with a slight nod without tearing his gaze away from Kimblee's. Never mind Mustang now, he decided. There were more important things to clear up.

"And Marcoh locked his files about Scar away from the Military, right?"

"_That _I don't know," confessed Kimblee with a definite shrug.

Having had the conversation shift towards the subject of Marcoh, a sudden realisation came upon Roy. It had been so obvious from the start and he had no idea how something so evident could be looked over and forgotten. "What _I _don't understand is," he started and gotten Edward's attention from Kimblee. "Is that the files are still _here_. Why did Marcoh lock those files when he could just have them – well – destroyed?"

A small silence surrounded their group for a mere moment and then Kimblee tilted his head from Roy to Edward in formulated judgement. His eyebrows rose once he understood, "I think I know what you two are up to … how Little Miss Blonde here was created right?"

"_Don't _call me that!" Edward hollered in disgust.

Kimblee's lips widened into a cold smile. "Well isn't it obvious _why _Marcoh didn't have Scar's files destroyed?"

"What are you talking about?"

Leaning back on his chair again, Kimblee crossed his arms and coolly regarded them both with indomitable interest, like the way a doctor examines his most unique patients. An uncomforting feeling swept over Roy's form. Somehow, a struck of unwanted vulnerability rose in his chest, forcing him to turn his face away from the prisoner's. Beside him, he saw Edward perform the same actions as he did – the blonde lowered his head and stared uneasily at his hands where his fingers clutched his knees with an unbearable grip that whitened his knuckles.

A satisfactory 'hmm' sounded from Kimblee as the corner of his lip twitched upwards. Roy relaxed his body once the watchful amber irises disappeared under closed lids.

"Why _else _wouldn't he destroy those files?" Kimblee finally replied smoothly as if he was answering the easiest question in the world. "It's because Marcoh wanted to make _more_ Scars, that's why."

_More Scars …_ the blonde persocom thought. _More invincible, destructive persocoms … Edward was just **another** Scar …_

A loud, irritating buzz rang out through the two-second silence following Kimblee's words and the volatile tension that was held in the air snapped abruptly. Roy felt his entire form slump lower into the chair he sat on, an indication that he had been stiffening his stature throughout the vagrant interview. Their conversation time was now over and they watched the two security guards return to pick up Kimblee.

"Heheh … you boys come to escort me back to my humble cell?"

"Shut it, Kimblee. Move your legs."

A flash of amber caught onyx and gold eyes with final interest before the prisoner was whisked away through the double steel doors without another sound.

Roy looked down at Edward as they moved away from the alerted stares of numerous security guards and devices ready to recapture any escaping convict. The concern he held for Edward returned to him in a split second. He couldn't believe that the quizzical answer behind Marcoh's files had driven his worry away for a moment.

"Ed, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mustang. No need to ask."

The answer was quiet and undoubtedly forced. What was more noticeable was that Edward did not look up to meet his gaze when he spoke. Obviously, the persocom wasn't truthful with his answer. Roy was about to ask again when he realised that Edward's earlier answer was not only forced, but informed _carelessly_ – as if the persocom hadn't particularly noticed the concerned, dubious manner in Roy's question. The blank look in his golden eyes confirmed towards him that Edward was deeply lost in his thoughts and – he knew sooner – that it was wise to leave the blonde alone to ponder in those thoughts before any severe coaxing would be allowed to commence.

There was only silence in the car and the occupants weren't bothering to break it as both were completely immersed within the depths of their minds concerning the day's events. The gentle, muffled humming of the car speeding through the night and snow was their only small reminder of reality.

Like any other event that included Edward refusing to explain his problems, Roy set about trying to guess what aspects from their interview with Kimblee could have made that startling impact upon the blonde. What had Kimblee said…?

Perhaps it was Kimblee's sadistic description of his experiences of war that shook the persocom. After all, Roy _did _happen to catch that troubled look on Ed's face when Kimblee mentioned it …

"_He grew **feelings**, didn't he? He couldn't take it anymore … it was too … disturbing …"_

Unconsciously Roy shivered, remembering that haunting tone layered in the words delivered from Edward's mouth. Whatever Edward seemed to be worried about, it certainly didn't seem anyway pleasant …

He stopped at a set of traffic lights illuminated in front of the car and waited as a group of youths crossed the road, the ends of their thick coats billowing, their heads lowered to prevent the wrath of cold wind blowing onto their faces. One member of the group held a couple of bright files in her arms …

Marcoh's files. Kimblee had answered their question on why Marcoh tended to keep Scar's files as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Should Roy place his trust on Kimblee's words? It seemed that Kimblee appeared to have a particular distinctive character. He was indeed ruthless – a sick, inconceivable sadist who enjoyed war's little inhuman pleasures. Yet, when asked certain questions, he replied with absolute submission, as if he didn't care if he spilled the Military's most top secret information to anyone who merely asked. And because of this coolly docile character, Kimblee had no such reason to be untruthful.

All those words he had said were true to the very last letter.

_But something doesn't seem to make much sense_, Roy suddenly thought, aware that one part of his original question was left unanswered. _If Marcoh planned to use these files again, why had he placed them in the Military database if he was hiding it from them? _

The traffic light changed to green and Roy stepped on the accelerator, letting the car leap forward to continue its journey towards home.

On the passenger seat, Edward stared glumly at the dark, shimmering white landscape that rolled quietly outside his window.

"_Don't **tell **me you don't know! You're a similar one to Scar and you have **no idea** what you're capable of doing?"_

Of course, Edward now knew what horrifying things he was able to do. He was just _another _Scar, of course – just another perfect weapon and tool of destruction. So now he understood how he could easily get into databases and break security codes so effortlessly. From what Kimblee had said, he could control over any form of technology and bring it under his command – and he could make it work the way he wanted it – or the way his superiors wanted it to.

A small sigh from his driver dragged the persocom's thoughts towards him and he frowned at the window when he realised the possibility of how Roy could take advantage over him as well.

Honestly, Scar had been useful for Amestris' Militia and just _possessing _him gave them advantage over their opponents. With Ed's abilities, Roy could very well perform the same actions to benefit his personal needs. With just a mere command, Edward could assist Roy with easily overpowering Hakuro and take control over Prise Gadgets Enterprises and claiming it as his own without sheer effort. Anyone who tried to oppose Roy would be dealt with by Edward's threatening wrath. In addition to that, they could take over other companies with a click of a button and even the _entire country_. With Ed, Roy could become the most powerful man in Amestris!

He was created to be _used, _right? As a persocom, Edward was just a damn _tool _to help humans suit their egotistical selves. It didn't matter if what he did was criminal or not, he was just doing what he was programmed to do. It didn't matter if his actions brought misery and damage; he was only doing his job …

No, no, no! He was thinking too simply! Edward and Scar were _different _from the other persocoms. They were _decisive _– they thought for themselves, they decided for themselves. Perhaps Scar's decision to quit fighting the war might have come out a bit late but it was still the same concept: they both had some form of _free will. _It may be that Edward could take over _Roy's _life if he wanted to. Ed could decide if he should take advantage over _Roy_ instead of the other way round.

_What a thrilling idea it seemed!_ A soft, devious voice exclaimed in his mind that sounded familiar before he realised that the voice was his. This could be a chance to finally show Mustang who should respect _who_, a chance to win against every challenge thrown at him and a chance to stop the bastard from manipulating him to suit hisneeds. Oh wait! There was just another million things he could do if he took over Roy's life so easily like that, he could–

He pressed his lips together to stop himself from letting out a small gasp that would surely attract his user's attention away from the road and onto him. What the _hell_ … was he thinking? How could he become so cruel to think of the many possibilities he could do to make Roy Mustang's life a living hell just because he realized that his newfound abilities made him officially superior to the man? NO! Ruining someone else's life was what Scar had done – by destroying the lives of others through war. Ruining someone's life for the sake of _personal revenge_ proved nothing at all … it just emphasized how much destruction Ed was capable of doing.

He was utterly indignant towards himself.

_More Scars … Marcoh wanted to make more Scars … Ed was just **another **Scar …_

Ed could _kill_, _dominate_ and **_betray _**the human race because he was powerful and because he was decisive. And if Marcoh wanted to make _more _Scars – if this army of Scars underwent the same conscience that the original Scar obtained when he realised how utterly _ruthless_ human beings were … well, just _think _of all the possibilities an army of invincible, destructive machines with _free will _could do to the world! They could dominate the entire Universe!

Now he really was feeling _more _indignant towards himself, more ashamed and disgusted about his creation. He felt as if he wanted to punish himself for being so ignorant of his abilities throughout all these weeks – he should have been noticing _this _instead of thinking what that strange moment he and Roy shared was about when he was given that ring …

Strange as it was when you realise that something so obvious could slip from your mind when you are occupied with something. Edward had actually_ forgotten_ that he had emotions – his sensing ability to feel numerous states including joy, fear and sorrow – and this was, by far, the most baffling piece to the puzzle of his creation. Why on earth was Scar and Ed given emotions if they were made to destroy? Emotions had so many purposes – one in which he knew would either reinforce or punish a person according to their actions.

But what would a persocom _do _with emotions anyway? Was it to experience how it felt like to be … human? Was being human a means to have a right of personal choice and feel the experience of emotions – the joys, the fears and the sorrows of life?

Because of his killings, Scar had been fledged with the overwhelming emotion of guilt until he couldn't _take it_ anymore. From that, he literally destroyed himself to relieve that pain…

"_If being human is too much to handle, then it's better off being dead."_

Oh how haunting Kimblee's words sounded to him right now.

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**end chapter

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**Rest of note: **I like how this chapter turned out in the end now. In my first draft, everything was completely all over the place and now, it turned out okay. I hope some elements sparked off some thought-provoking from you, please tell me if it does or not! I am actually trying my best to make this dramatic, adventurous, angsty, sometimes funny and thought-provoking at the same time like the FMA anime.

My grammar and vocab seem weird here since I just slapped a bunch of words from the school dictionary. But now I am so tired I may be falling asl..eep typ..ii…ng… ZZzzzzzzzzzzzz…….

-NoriKo


	16. Fifteen

NOTE: **This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09**

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Authoress' explanatory rant:**

Firstly, I am very, very, very, very _sorry_ for the sudden and late update. I am very much alive, yes, but in uncertainty because I **cannot promise** regular updates of this story from this point on. To tell you the truth, after posting up the Chapter 14 more than a year ago (has it really been _that _long?!), I had written up the first half of this chapter and left it to that. And just this morning (03/07/07), a sudden thought came into me as I struggled to come into terms with my massive, evil writer's block – that I should take a look at the unfinished chapter of **mFM**. And so I did and after reading it, I found that my fingers have begun to type on their own accord and before I knew it, it was finished. AMAZINGLY finished in the length of several hours! I couldn't believe it myself!

A gigantic thank you to all the beautiful, lovely, stupendous and wonderful, wonderful reviews from the last chapter and to the following **Ch14 **reviewers who have touched me with their kind reviews and helped motivate me to finish this _long-awaited, horribly-written_ chapter: **Roy-Fan-33**, **September's Nobara, FullMetal Neko, Synphoniam **and **katgirlofthenight **(because you've reviewed for both **mFM **_and _**Chow Chow**! Love you!)And to the rest of my beautiful reviewers, to the readers, to those who have placed this story on their Alert, Favourites & C2 Lists and to practically anyone else who have stumbled into this little story, **thank you **for your support and **cookies **for you all!

**Warning: **It would probably help if you all read the previous chapters before reading this one just to get back on track with the story. Or then again, maybe you don't really need to (because you'll probably notice how terrible the chapter has been written up and flame me about it – I'm so sorry!!! Please don't shout at me!!) Anyway, on with the 6,055 word chapter!

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**- 15 -**

"Are you _sure _you'll be alright, honey? Do you want me to take you to the clinic?"

"I'll be fine. Go on or you'll be late."

Maes Hughes released a sigh as his gaze softened with sympathy over the figure of his beloved wife, who was wrapped up in numerous sweaters and holding a steaming cup of tea to her lips. A wash of pink settled on the curvature of her nose and her doe eyes were squinting with grogginess. Gracia was on the route to catching a cold from the looks of things and Hughes was a little concerned for her wellbeing. Still, just because Gracia insisted that she was alright, Hughes' dedication for her got the best of him. Seeing these symptoms confirming her susceptibility to illnesses, especially during the cold season, aroused Hughes' concerns one too many times throughout the length of their three-year marriage. Whether he was late or not was of no bother to him – all he was focused on was the health of his family.

She saw that flash of worry on his face and reassured him with a small, weak smile. "Don't worry about me," she certified, waving a free hand as a gesture to push away the uncertainties that flowed in the air around them. "I told you, I'll be _fine_. You should go now. You're already ten minutes late."

After more seconds of hesitant staring, Hughes relaxed the muscles that had held his form up. Perhaps he was overreacting on this. It was probably the stress of work …

"Ring, ring, ring! Phone call from the office!"

The adorable twang of his persocom's voice averted his attention away from Gracia. Elicia bounced onto the mahogany coffee table and broke into an animated dance as she sing-songed her announcement, inducing an amused giggle from the partly-ill wife who sat sniffling on the couch.

Hughes grinned at the cuteness of it all and took the call.

"Damn it – where the _hell _are you, Maes?"

He almost fell off the chair because those quick, angry words had been spoken by someone all-too-familiar.

"_Roy_?" Hughes exclaimed in a mixture of delight and disbelief. It was ultimately _strange _to hear the vice-president's voice on telecommunication airwaves like this. To make things clear, Roy Mustang _never really _called him on the phone. Well, scratch that – Roy Mustang never really called _anyone _using a phone to be honest ever since he acquired the job at Prise Gadgets. The man was simply too arrogant to stand calling people except substantial dates, but even then it was the _women _who did the calling. So this had to be a first to the ever-changing lifestyle of the dark haired man who owned a realistic persocom model named Edward.

"Yes it's me. Now why aren't you at work? I've been waiting _aeons _for you here! Hawkeye's going to kill me if I don't return to the office soon!"

A sudden rush of blankness clouded his mind at the words. Had Roy just said … he'd been waiting …?

"Forget it, just get OVER here now!"

Regaining brief composure, he grinned and answered a "I'll be there in a jiffy!" before Elicia hung up the call. Hughes sat there, completely baffled at the episode that had just ended not a few seconds ago.

Well, to understand _why _Maes Hughes was baffled with the call could be explained by simply analysing the discourse that had been exchanged between the two callers. Truth be told, not only did Roy Mustang never called anyone, he never really sounded so incredibly **desperate **for someone to respond to his wishes. The hysterical, angry note in the vice-president's voice was layered with impatience, frantic haste and impetuosity. He sounded like he _needed _to see him – and fast.

Such an opportunity of need that had been rare (and hopefully wouldn't be in years to come) was too good to pass up. Again truth be told, Roy Mustang never really asked for personal help before. And since he was seeking for a form of aid – and that happened to be _directly _from Hughes – then, something immensely serious must have come up to leave the man helpless for a solution. Sure, Hughes had provided him with countless numbers of solutions before but they were just supplied according to his own will and not because Roy had asked him to.

So yes – this was a golden moment _indeed_.

It seemed that the phone call had chased away the traces of concern for the health of his wife from his mind because Hughes bounced up from his seat; Elicia perched on his shoulder, and leaned down to place a kiss on his wife's feverish forehead.

"I'll be back at six. Don't make anymore fruitcakes while I'm gone. I don't think the oven's working very well."

With a flashed smile, Hughes gathered up his gloves and keys and left the warm vicinity of the house to step into the white, crispy surroundings of Central City.

**0o0o0**

The minute he stepped into his office, Roy Mustang, who had been glaring holes at the surface of the coffee table, jumped up from his seat and crossed his arms with a well-formed, irritated scowl. Hughes, seeing that his best friend seemed too angry to speak at the moment, looked around for a while before launching the curious question he had been aching to ask ever since that phone call.

"So how long have you waited?"

He wondered how Roy's scowl could turn even bitterer than it was now because it just did. "An _hour_," came the reply, sharp and biting with irritation. "Had to wake an extra hour just to get here, y'know." After a moment's awkward silence that Hughes found very much odd, Roy let out an exasperated sigh and flopped back down onto the couch he had been sitting on.

"Let's just get this over with," he said and Hughes took a seat and studied the expression on his colleague's face and almost immediately, he knew.

"Edward again?"

Roy hesitated for a moment, telling himself how Hughes was too good in figuring things out so fast. He was confident that Hughes would help him with this investigation. So, in the midst of several minutes, Roy launched into his long-winded description of yesterday's turn of events: about Kimblee, the persocom Scar, Ed–

Come to think of it, Roy hadn't seen Edward this morning …

Hughes was shocked in discovering Edward's capabilities, those that were applied from the basis of Scar's. Clearly, the spectacled man hadn't expected something so _big _like that to ever cross with someone like Edward. He found the information fascinating and horrifying at the same time. Still, amongst these feelings, he could not help noticing that a small uneasiness was also included. A persocom so precious like Ed was wanted by the Military and if news about his existence leaked around Central, unwanted trouble would soon find itself forcing into their quiet lives. His subconscious warned him to stop listening to this, for he felt as if he was better off not knowing the rest of Edward's mystery.

However, throughout the explanation, he had also watched the concentrated, serious look laced in Roy's features, noticing from the other's tone that he was determined to get to the bottom of this. The urgent phone call that summoned him quickly to the office proved this exacting point. Roy Mustang, a man whose purpose was to pursue promotions and praise from his work, was aiming for something that was not of his agenda. He was meddling into areas that he should not know …

_Was it right to help him?_ Hughes' subconscious questioned him. _Was it right to become involved in this affair and get in trouble afterwards – risk having Edward's secret spilled to the world? Was it advisable to ask Roy to stop this investigation before it got even uglier? _

No.

Somehow a louder voice opposed this. Roy's dedication to uncover this mystery was too much to be ignored and it would be pointless to stop such an interesting incident. Hughes found that because of this investigation, Roy was changing.

In other words, he was struggling to help _someone _else and not _himself _for once …

"… it's the locations of those files is what I'm so worried about," finished Roy with a passing sigh. "It's in the Military's hands. If Marcoh locked those files **away **from the Military …"

"Ever considering he might be locking it from outside resources as _well _as the Military?" One of Hughes' quick thought-off assumptions bounced right out of his mouth. "After all, if he got Gilleroy Creator to encrypt his files so heavily, he does certainly not want to share them with anyone at all, probably not even himself."

"That _still _does not answer _why _those files are still in Military possession."

Hughes crossed his arms and lifted his head up in a thoughtful manner, "Roy, didn't you hear what I just said? He's hiding it from _outside _resources _as well_ as the Military. You know as well as I do about Amestris' Military security – they guard the database with all sorts of security systems. If important files like Marcoh's needed a place where the whole world couldn't stumble into, then the Military database is the perfect place to put it in."

A pause was commenced to let those words assimilate into Roy's mind. Hughes could only let a small satisfied smile settle on his lips at the surprised stare that the other was giving to him right now. After a few more seconds, a smirk formed on Roy's face.

"Maes, you're a–"

But whatever word Roy was about to utter was immediately cut off by a sudden swinging of the office door opening. The two men whipped their heads around to come face-to-face with the intruding newcomer and one of the pair stiffened at the sight of a towering figure at the door.

A gigantic man blocked the opening of the supposedly small office door, cutting off any signs of a possible escape. An extremely clean suit embraced his large form, from the expensive-looking tie to the shiny size fifteen (it seemed to look like) shoes on his feet. He was entirely bald save for an individual curl of blonde hair on the top of his head. A bushy golden moustache covered his upper lip and a small pair of twinkling blue eyes blinked at the two men in the office before they lit up with excitement and utter delight.

A smile like so induced a distinguishable air of peculiar shininess and at once any introductions made about this character would be reminded of by this air. It seemed that everything about this large man was _shiny_. Even the aura around him was observable, taking form in the appearance of random pink sparkles shining vibrantly around his figure.

"Mr. Mustang! My god, is it a marvellous surprise to see you again!"

Roy's face had taken on a pallid colour from the moment he had laid eyes on the newcomer. His body had stiffened, refusing to move as the large man bounded into the office to fully greet the occupants. The next thing he knew he was lifted up from his seat and crushed in a bone-breaking hug, exerted with mushy exclamations and contented tears.

"How long has it been, Mustang? What – four years? Ha-ha! And to think I would be seeing you working in East City when you said you'd never go to where the bigwigs are in Central!"

If Roy had a reply to this he would have delivered it, had it not been for the fact that his face was compressed into the large, very muscular chest.

Hughes could only blink at the gesture of familiarity between the two before he decided that this was a good time to question about that.

"Do you two _know _each other, Mr. Armstrong?"

The pink sparkles drifting around the moustached man continued to glitter. "As a matter of fact Mr. Hughes, he and I were team partners on a business project back in college! Mustang was a bit of a slacker back then – bless him, the sort to order people around and not do any work himself–"

"That's enough, Armstrong – and nice to see you again," Roy managed to free himself from the large man's embrace and stop his words before it got any uglier. Smoothing back his ruffled hair, he added with a suspicious tone, "What exactly are you doing here of all places?" In supplement to that, he also shot a look at Hughes, "And how do you know Maes?"

The man known as Armstrong merely continued smiling at his former colleague. He gestured a hand towards himself and answered dramatically, "I am currently on a private business trip regarding your company's need for more branches to be built in the south. Mr. Hughes here is in charge of the scheme."

"Armstrong's one of the architects from our branch in East City," Hughes explained to the puzzled Roy. "I heard he's really good in drawing–"

"Yes it is true," the large man beamed, puffing out his chest. "My artistic talent happens to be one of the brilliant traits passed down in the Armstrong generation–"

"How long are you going to be staying?" Roy interrupted, his fingers slowly massaging his temples. It was obvious he couldn't stand the shininess illuminated from the man's figure. Plus the pink sparkles seemed too much.

"'Till New Year's day," Hughes answered with an amused smile. He had seen the unfavourable expression on Roy's face. He turned to the large man politely and continued their introductions, "So Mr. Armstrong, what else do you do apart from drawing?"

Unfortunately Hughes did not see the warning sign that Roy was trying to deliver to him.

Armstrong's small blue eyes lit up with delight once again and in one massive swipe, he tore his business suit off – both jacket and shirt – to reveal the bulging muscles that throbbed around his body. By that time, Roy had already made a beeline towards the door.

As the gigantic muscles flexed, Hughes couldn't believe that his eyes were **watering** from the sight.

**0o0o0**

Cold, hungry and tired, Roy felt relieved by the time he arrived home from work. As usual, his lateness had irritated Riza Hawkeye and he was quite fortunate to evade an attack by Black Hayate, whom Hawkeye had his mechanical jaws replaced with a new sharper model. Work was slow once again as winter sales increased so dramatically that he almost collapsed in exhaustion. The only thing that prevented him from drowsing off was the distant sound of Armstrong's voice ringing out in the building. The large, muscular man was patrolling the offices and flaunting his bulging muscles to any unfortunate passers who wandered about in his view.

He was surprised to see that the lights in the house were switched off and the apartment had been thrown into darkness. Making a mental note to tell Edward off afterwards, he turned on the lights and strolled into the kitchen, expecting a ready-prepared meal to sit waiting for him to consume.

What he found was an empty table surface.

He turned around and marched back out, stopping by the foot of the stairs. A feeling of uneasiness had enveloped his form. Usually Edward should be home by now since the persocom never ventured out of the house so late. In fact, judging by the state of the vicinity, it looked as if Edward had been out all day.

He couldn't help but feel slightly worried by the persocom's absence.

It was very late by the time he woke up from his doze at the sound of the front door opening. Turning towards the entrance, he spotted Edward, whose being was covered in snow, sauntering inside. The persocom shook the white flurries from his wet hair and paused when he noticed the glare that Roy was giving him at the moment.

The blonde frowned and said, "Look, I lost track of time."

Roy's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth in order to tell Edward off for staying outside in freezing temperatures for too long (as computers shouldn't be stored in extreme temperatures anyway) before Edward beat him to it.

"Hey, I've been thinking …" he began hesitantly. "I think we should stop this investigation."

Even when Roy noticed that Edward had kept his eyes away from his as he said it, he couldn't help feeling surprised at the sudden announcement. What could have convinced the blonde to decide about this so quickly? Not to mention, quite unexpectedly?

"W-What?" Roy managed to blurt out because he was still in that state of utter disbelief.

The stuttered, questionable tone in the man's voice caused Edward to cringe. In a while, a stubborn frown then formed on his face before he answered with his words low and muffled, "You heard me – let's just … let's just stop, okay?"

The older man did not answer back and as seconds passed, the silence that stretched between them grew heavier and heavier. Puzzled thoughts raced through Roy's mind at Edward's request –no, _demand_ more like. What could have caused the persocom to change his mind? He had been determined before… and now…?

After that moment of stillness, Roy finally spoke, "Why?"

The frown fixed on Edward's face darkened even more with stubbornness as the blonde continued not to say a thing. This unresponsiveness sparked Roy's memory and he knew that this was one of those times when the blonde refused to share his dilemmas with him.

Treading into familiar ground now, he knew that he had to take his time. So, speaking with a softer tone, he attempted to coax Edward into confessing.

"Come on, Edward. There must be some logical reason for you to abruptly change your mind about this matter, isn't there?"

As usual, the persocom didn't take it too lightly, already knowing Roy's tactics too well. Instead, he murmured quite poisonously, "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Edward…"

"No, really. It's nothing. I just changed my mind, that's all."

Roy remembered the incident on the night before. "By any chance, is it because of what Kimblee had said?"

Roy saw that his words had caused Edward's form to stiffen up. And knowing that he had caught on with the blonde, he continued on, "Is that it? You're _upset_ by that?"

A brief flash of fear appeared in Edward's eyes before they were replaced with a burning rage. And before he knew it, the blonde's voice had suddenly taken on a growling edge:

"**Why don't you just **_**piss**_** off**?"

Almost instantly, anger rose up in Roy's chest like a beast waking up from a slumber. He knew that handling Edward was perhaps one of the hardest challenges he had ever faced in his life. It had taken him _months _to deal with the blonde's many rants, antics, demands, his irritably stubborn nature as a whole and he had given up his treasured pride just to put the amount of effort in to simply _understand _the blonde. And here he was again, pressured into trying to emphasize with a godforsaken, emotional _computer _who just refused and _refused _to tell him what was wrong.

"What's the hell's your problem, Ed?"

"_You're _my goddamn problem, you asshole!"

"Well, _you're_ an obnoxious little pipsqueak."

The words just flew out of his mouth without thinking because he was too used to counterattacking the other with these sorts of insults. And for one millisecond of a moment, Edward had hesitated for that time, letting a flicker of expressions run across his façade. Roy found them too fast to read off but nonetheless, some form of subconscious in him regretted what he had just said. After a while, the persocom's face darkened with fiery anger, an anger that held much more intensity that surpassed the previous ones that Roy had seen.

"PIPSQUEAK?!" Edward yelled, his voice now taking on a screeching, almost distressed edge. "Who the hell are you calling a _pipsqueak_? Why is it that you always use the idea of my height as your attack? You think you can **subdue** me with that?"

Roy blinked in shock at those harsh, blunt words, unconsciously taking an automatic step back at their impact. The way Edward had said them made him think that the words he had delivered to the blonde had been cruel. He found himself protesting back, his words stumbling oddly into each other.

"Wait, n-no Ed, I–"

He lost the rest of his words when he found a pair of golden eyes fixed on his in an intense, burning glare.

"Why is it…" this time, Edward's words escaped his lips in a fierce hiss as the blonde began to breathe out slowly and heavily, something that Roy found peculiar for a computer to do. "Why is it …that you always, **always **piss me off by asking me what's wrong? What's _wrong_ with me? _Can't you see it_? _Can't you guess it?"_

"Ed, what are you talking about–"

"_Me_, okay?" Edward finally spat out, his words forced and sharp, brash and terribly anguished. "The problem is **me**! _My_ body, _my_ programs, _my_ emotions, my very _existence_ – I'm a **mistake **to humankind, a threat to living people! I cause so much trouble to everyone, I ruined your perfect, goddamn life with my arrival and I can't control these stupid, _stupid _emotions! Don't you get it? I'm a _war_ machine!"

His words echoed all around the room, with every resonance emphasizing his point ten times over, until silence washed over and left the vicinity hollow in the aftermath. Even Edward shuddered involuntarily at the impact of his own confession.

After a while, Roy muttered out loud, not believing that this one little issue was the thing responsible for making the persocom act like this: "… That's stupid."

The blonde looked outraged. "What–?"

"You're being _stupid_, Edward," the other snapped in response as he glared down at the short persocom before him.

Edward's eyes widened in disbelief because he could not believe that his user was actually saying this.

"_You're _the stupid one, Mustang," he snarled back with his hands clenched into tight fists. "_You're _so caught up in asking me what's wrong that you don't even stop to notice it! Didn't you hear what Kimblee said? What he meant? I'm…"

He paused in his words because he was still troubled, still _frightened_ that he had grasped the supposed truth about his existence, "… I'm just another Scar."

And there it was, the truth behind his worries exposed to his stubborn, naïve user. Another round of silence followed this as if they were allowing those very words to linger in the air around them.

And then–

"… A ridiculous idea." It was Roy who broke their silence. A dark frown had crossed his face as he continued to stare down at his persocom.

"What the hell–?!"

"I said you're talking nonsense," the man interrupted the other dismissingly. "This is your problem, Ed – you just couldn't stop for a _second_ to notice other things."

"_Other things_?" Edward screeched loudly, feeling awfully irritated at the way Mustang was reacting to all this. "Just what _are_ you on about?"

Roy let out an exasperated sigh and folded his arms across his chest. "Just because there's a high possibility that you were built using Scar's files," he began, his tone pressed with emphasis to challenge the way Edward rolled his eyes at him as a means of ignoring his words, "…it doesn't mean that you've become _exactly_ like him … it won't hurt to find out more about the matter."

"Well, I don't want to," were the final words from the blonde, whose eyes were turned away from the other's.

"Come on, Edward. What's holding you back? Is it because you're **scared** to see if what Kimblee meant was the truth and that you really _were_ made to be another Scar? Is _that_ it?"

There was a flash of widened eyes as they shot up to meet his own and what Roy saw was not a glare of outrage but two endless golden pools swirling with a mixture of emotions.

Before he knew it, he found a metal fist slamming into the middle of his chest, knocking the air and thoughts out of his form. His legs gave away and he was on the floor, feeling pain exploding all over his body and paralysing his limbs. So much pain.

Roy coughed hard and spat out blood onto the carpeted floor. Staring at the dots of dark red that was quickly absorbed by the carpet's nylon fibres, he was suddenly able to think again and catch up to the events that led up to this. And when it did, Roy's figure shook with rage. Edward had just _punched_ him, _injured_ him! How dare … how dare he let that persocom do this to him? The blonde had been right all along with his declaration. He _was_ harmful to people. He nearly _killed _Roy for crying out loud! Why hadn't Roy seen this before? He should have sent Edward _away_ a long time ago because then he wouldn't have wasted so much of his energy trying to reason with that damn blonde. Edward should be shipped off somewhere and be disposed off immediately before more destruction would come to the world due to the persocom's wrath!

Slowly, Roy managed to lift his head up to deliver a glare at the blonde. But instead his eyes widened with absolute astonishment.

There was a remarkable expression crossing Edward's face. It was a look of pure shock that seemed all too convincing and far too genuine for Roy to disprove. The blonde's golden eyes were wide and unusually bright and as they continued to stare down into his own, Roy wasn't too sure if what he was seeing was real or merely a foolish hallucination. There were **teardrops** … distressed tears … sparkling, shining somewhere_, somewhere_ in those wide, shocked eyes. _Tears?_ Roy pondered with bewilderment. _How could they be tears? __That's a sign of human emotion… that couldn't be possible… Ed was–_

At once, all anger and resentment had disappeared from Roy's form, leaving the throbbing, numb pain from the punch's impact in his body. He reached out a hand in order to shake Edward out of his shock because the other was still, unmoving, like a soulless doll, just staring and staring with unblinking, disbelieved eyes.

"Edward…?"

He found that the hand that he was holding out was stained with blood – _his _blood – and it was not long before the very sight shook Edward out of his stupor.

"Ah…"

The utterance fumbled out of the blonde's lips as a sign that he was now conscious of his surroundings. And Edward's face, which had been tainted with lines of shock before, now changed to that of extreme horror.

"Oh no…" he breathed out, the words barely audible out of his mouth as he tried to shake his head in an attempt to deny the action he had executed. "No, no, _no_!"

And with that, he turned and took off, bolting out of door in a panicked scramble to leave their chaotic, terrible situation, not caring for his user who was still on the floor and was calling out his name:

"Ed! _Edward_!"

Roy cursed out loud and struggled onto his feet, feeling his breathing come out ragged and rasping. Placing a hand over the spot where Edward had hit him, he staggered towards the door and, after stuffing his feet into his boots, rushed out of his house and onto the dark, snow-covered streets.

"Edward!"

Luckily, he was able to distinguish the shape and pattern on fresh footsteps over the snow and he followed those tracks, his mind growing even more anxious as seconds passed.

"_Why is it …that you always, __**always **__piss me off by asking me what's wrong?"_

Edward's distressed voice suddenly played over in his thoughts like a broken tape recorder as he continued to run, his eyes wandering everywhere to spot the hues of red fabric and blonde locks.

"_The problem is __**me**__! I ruined your perfect, goddamn life_…_!"_

But that wasn't true, Roy suddenly mused in his mind. Yes, it had probably been the case months ago but Roy's thoughts had changed by then. Edward had become part of his life now. Of course Edward had made things difficult between them at times. Of course he sometimes worried Roy with his silenced dilemmas and his refusal to share his problems until the dark-haired man could simply not stand it anymore and try to push the blonde into telling. But it never had a thought like Edward's existence ruining his life ever cross the older man's mind.

"_I'm a __**mistake **__to humankind, a threat to living people!"_

He had remembered the thoughts that whirled in his head the minutes after Edward had undoubtedly punched him. In those still moments, Roy had been far too angry to pause and contemplate on Edward's emotions. Now with his head cleared up and his logical thoughts placed into motion, he was able to understand that the blonde did not mean to lash out and physically hurt him like that at his words. Edward had been _scared_ in hearing the truth flow out of his lips and into the open like that. He wasn't acting out because he was naturally violent and programmed to inflict destruction. It was merely a subconscious reaction to his statement. Roy found himself disagreeing to everything he had mentally voiced when he had stared at the bloodstains on that carpet. Edward was not– _never_ dangerous. And he trusted that very thought with his life.

His breathing was becoming difficult as he continued to run and ignore the pain in his chest at the same time. But soon after, his physical struggle paid off when he was able to catch sight of a red coat making its way across the snow towards a bridge that arched over an icy river.

"_Edward_!"

His cry resonated throughout the night. Edward managed to turn his head and glimpse at his sprinting form but failed to notice that he, himself, was running into a streetlamp that stood erected from the pavement.

_Ponnngg!_

The sound echoed loudly as Edward crashed into the streetlamp and he staggered back from the collision until his back hit the side of the bridge. And before he knew it, the blonde had toppled over and disappeared over the edge.

"EDWARD!"

There was another crash and a _splash_ as something penetrated through the thin layer of ice and plunged into the river. Without hesitation, Roy was climbing over the side of the bridge, taking in a final breath before diving fearlessly into the ice.

**0o0o0**

The first thing that came into Roy's head was that he could not believe how tremendously **cold** the waters were. The iciness crept into his bones faster than he could think and he found his entire body paralysed and completely numb from the shock. This was far, far _worse_ than the blow Edward had delivered him minutes ago.

His mouth suddenly opened in an explosion of bubbles because he began to panic. As the coldness continued to disable his movements, darkness had begun to claw into his vision and all he was seeing now was a dark, black abyss looming and beckoning him to join in its sinister embrace.

At the far corner of his vision, something was floating in the waters like he was. Someone with a red coat and blonde hair … and the two bright colours beamed back at him out of the icy darkness.

_Edward!_

A fire ignited in his chest and seemed to burn away the cold that had paralysed his limbs. His arms flailed as he began to swim through the silent icy waters, using the red and yellow colours emitting from the persocom like a candle to light his pathway. He grabbed onto the unmoving blonde and with one free arm, began to swim upwards towards the dim lights of the surface and away from the black abyss that waited for them both below.

The surface of the lake broke in a plume of white spray and out came Roy and Edward, spluttering and coughing for air as they struggled to stay afloat. The night air remained silent as they made their way towards the bank of the river, where Roy dragged the heavy figure of Edward onto shore with the remaining strength he had left. They crouched at the foot of the snowy bridge, their hair and clothes sopping wet, with Roy still gasping for breath and Edward coughing out river water.

"You… okay…?" Roy breathed out as his entire body shook continuously from the biting cold. He was holding Edward by his forearms and after a while, began to notice that the blonde was shaking… _shivering_ as he continued to splutter out water from his systems.

"_D-Damn_…" came Edward's voice in a hiss. Under Roy's touch, his body continued to vibrate in a way a mobile phone does and before long, a strong surge of warmth suddenly radiated from the blonde's body as his internal systems struggled to regain its optimum temperature. It was similar to the way a human being shivers to generate body warmth.

Of course, if Roy could ponder upon this much longer, he would have been able to point out this fact but his vision was beginning to blur and the thread of his consciousness was threatening to break off. His grip upon Edward's arms tightened because he was afraid that Edward might break free from his grasp and escape from him again. He was unaware that he was unconsciously leaning closer and closer to Edward in hopes of stealing some of the warmth that was exuding from the blonde.

"Have you really found what you're looking for?" Roy murmured through squinted eyes as he struggled to focus his vision of the wide-eyed persocom before him. "Do you think that what Kimblee said to you is the real truth? Are you satisfied to hear that you only exist just to be used for killing?"

Edward did not say anything as he stared back at Roy, whose sopping dark hair was plastered over his equally dark eyes which were, at the moment, as serious as could ever be.

"Want to know _my _opinion, Ed?" Roy continued rather half-heartedly as he struggled to stay conscious of his surroundings. "I don't _believe_ in any of it. I know that you're made out of much sterner stuff than those war machines. You're different. You can **choose **your own truth."

Something in Edward's face changed when Roy had spoken those words. A soaring realisation dawned into the blonde in which he felt was a similar reaction to the episode where President Hakuro had asked what his name was. And he realised that it was Edward, _himself_, who had chosen his own name and not anyone else.

So why shouldn't he choose his own reason for existence?

Something like a smile crept up Roy's lips as he watched Edward's expression play out the blonde's own thoughts. And unfortunately, this act was enough to snap the seemingly thin thread and render the dark-haired man, who held onto his blonde persocom, into unconsciousness.

"Mustang? _Mustang!_"

Edward's words were the last remains of the reality he had left behind as he welcomed the dark embrace of nothingness.

**0o0o0**

Little did he know that the moment his eyelids closed, his body slumped forwards onto a panicking Edward and for a second – for a _quarter_ of a second – his mouth had hovered over Edward's own in what seemed to be a near-enough brush of lips against lips. But they _missed _instead and Edward was left in a state of shock, firstly at the fact that Mustang's lips had nearly touched his own and secondly, at the fact that the bastard was sprawled over him, his cheeks flushed red from a rather obvious illness.

Edward grimaced and pushed the man off him, "You're an _idiot_, Mustang. How could you not know that I'm a hundred percent weather-proof?"

* * *

**(end chapter)**

* * *

**The rest of the authoress' rant:**

Argh! It's terrible, isn't it? The writing style has _completely _changed from last chapter, I KNOW! What do you expect if you've been _absent for a year long_! I'm very, very sorry if nothing sounded right in here. I was in such a rush to finish this chapter quickly and post it up as soon as possible! I'll apologise again and again for this! I'm so sorry!!

I realise that after every chapter that I post up for this story, I always seem to drop in a line or a comment about that aforementioned chapter. So… my views for this chapter? I quite liked the quote that Roy delivered to Ed as they crouched, shivering, at the foot of that bridge: "You can **choose **your own truth." I don't know how I came up with that quote but my fingers had just written it down without me even thinking about it. Strange, ain't it?

And I am simply too **cruel **to place that teasing almost-kiss in the last parts of this chapter. And why did I write about Ed being "weather-proof" (is that even a proper _word? _It means Ed can tolerate extreme temperatures as well as all sorts of weather) as the cliff-hanger? I DON'T KNOW! I wanted it to end in an amusing way! Is this the best I could come up with?! New characters? ARMSTRONG! I _had _put him in! It's crazy!!

So, everyone! I have done my part and I await for your reviews, your comments, your rants, your scolds, your glares, the objects you are about to fling to me … your … (authoress shrinks away and runs off screaming as her reviewers pull out various pointy things to hurl at her direction)

'Till next time!

x**NoriKo-chan**


	17. Sixteen

A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE FOLLOWING CH15 REVIEWERS!

**Chaos Babe**, **Egypt Mesi**, **mimifoxlove**,** Danaa**, **AnthesLoveFullmetal**, **Kit Ninja**,** PatrioticPuppy**, **Dark Reborn**,** Nightmare Remnant**,** firedraygon**,** alaine**, **Lerisin**, **Twilight's Aura**,** Amaya Zorifuki**,** nightflower2008**, **peachtarts**,** ai-08**, **Kichi Hisaki**,** Bluie Twilight Star**,** kyothefallenkit**,** mou**,** MewMewVanilla**, **Mina Hikari**,** Glue Project**,** Fae Elric**, **The Violent Tomboy**,** Rokona**,** kitsuneluvuh**,** ehxhfdl14**, **Splendiferish**,** eve**,** anmbcuconnfan **and** YamiGoddess.**

And those who have put me on Alerts and Faves! THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

Yes, an update! _Hisashiburi da_ to you too! Did you notice that my last update was July 2007? Yikes! I got back into an FMA mood during the winter hols last year. Was rewatching the FMA eps and reminding myself what a fantabulous anime it was (loved the _CoS _movie in dub). Anyway, here's your long awaited chapter since you probably don't want to hear me talk anymore.

Oh go on and read then. We chat later, OK?

* * *

**-16-**

Edward cursed when the mug he had been carrying slipped from his grasp and shattered onto the floor, spilling hot milk all over the tiles. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he grabbed a handful of kitchen towels and set about wiping the mess he'd made. He had been careless again for his mind had been elsewhere. For three days Roy Mustang had been sick in bed and for three days Edward had been nursing him back to health. It had also been three long days of trying to muster up enough courage to apologise to the dark-haired man but every single time he tried, he failed. Mustang himself was being difficult to handle, being constantly in a bad mood, shouting at Edward whenever something dissatisfied him, never wanting Edward to stay in the same room with him for too long and even threw things at him if Edward shouted back.

Mustang's attitude towards him annoyed and worried Edward at the same time. But the persocom couldn't help thinking that Mustang was angry at him for what he had done to him three days ago. He had hurt the man after all. Wasn't it natural for Mustang to feel resentment towards him after what had happened? Perhaps Edward deserved the cold shoulder after all.

But he was still bothered. That was why he kept trying to apologise.

After cleaning up the spilt milk and disposing the broken mug, Edward grabbed a new mug and went to the refrigerator to get the carton of milk. He squirmed again as he watched the white liquid fill the mug. After heating the milk in the microwave, he placed it onto the dinner tray which included Mustang's prescription pills.

Edward climbed up the stairs, stopped outside Mustang's room to prepare himself before entering the room and finding the man asleep in bed, his dark hair terribly mussed up, his face ashen and plastered against a pillow and dark circles shadowing under his eyes. Edward stopped by the foot of the bed, watching him and noticing the vulnerability of Mustang's position as he lay there unconscious.

How curious it was to see the man like this – so pale and fragile and helpless like that…

He set down the tray and the noise suddenly woke the man up. The bed squeaked as Mustang moved and his dark eyes found Edward's gold ones.

"What time is it?" came a muffled grunt.

Edward frowned. "It's nearly five."

Mustang rubbed his ashen face with his fingers, looking as exhausted as ever. "Damn… that dark already?" he muttered before rolling over to the other side of the bed, away from Edward.

The frown on the persocom's face remained. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to induce a conversation that could lead to the apology he felt he owed to the other man.

"I got your medicine ready," he announced.

"Just leave it there and go away," Mustang muttered into his pillow. Edward's frown darkened but he held back his growing anger for Mustang's dismissive behaviour. Instead, he continued on much more boldly:

"You should take it now, you know."

"Yes, I know," Mustang replied, his tone clipped and annoyed before he fell silent again, completely ignoring the blonde persocom who lingered by his bedside.

Edward shuffled his boots against the carpet, trying to think up what else he could say. He felt utterly stupid all over again, just like the several failed attempts in the past. He just couldn't find enough _guts_ to say those two simple words:

_I'm sorry._

Why was it so hard for him? Was it because he was scared that Mustang wouldn't forgive him? Was it because he didn't _deserve_ to be forgiven?

"…So _stubborn_! What have I told you about wearing that red coat _indoors_?" Mustang suddenly griped aloud, snapping the blonde out of his thoughts. Edward found the man peering back at him from over his shoulder. "And you got milk all over it! So damn careless!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Edward found himself shouting back. "And why do you care about my coat anyway? It's not even _yours. _Damn jerk."

"Stupid pipsqueak," Edward heard Mustang mutter and the persocom couldn't constrain his anger any longer.

"Who the _hell _are you calling–"

"Oh shut _up,_" Mustang suddenly snapped, his voice stifled by the pillow. A single, dark eye glared back at the persocom from over the pillow he lay on. "You're so damn _noisy_. I can't _sleep_."

"N-noisy?" Edward hissed. "_Noisy_?!" he repeated, staring at Mustang incredulously. After all Edward had done for the man, this was what Mustang thought of him – something "noisy"? What in hell's name was the man's problem? Why couldn't he show a bit of gratitude at least? That ungrateful–

"Damn brat, why are you still _here_?"

Edward nearly cried out in surprise when he felt a pillow hit him in the face. When it fell to the floor, he found Mustang sitting up in bed with his pale face scrunched up in a scowl, his bleary eyes squinting at him and a pulsing vein on his temple. Edward stared, appalled at the man's actions. After a few seconds of refraining himself from kicking Mustang's bed, he turned away, his face hidden by his blonde hair and stomped out of the room, making sure to slam the door hard behind him. He heard Mustang swear loudly in the room before something was smashed against the door. It sounded as if the milk had been spilled again.

But Edward didn't care for that. He leaned against the door, cursing Mustang under his breath, cursing at Mustang's very being, cursing him so that the man would go and die alone in some hole because Edward was _sick _and_ tired_ of it. He was sick and tired of looking after him, sick and tired of the fact that no matter how much he hated the situation he was in, he still needed – he still _wanted_…

_Damn it!_

Edward reached up and covered his face with his left hand, his jaw clenched tightly, his breathing suddenly heavy.

_It's my fault. If I hadn't…_

He let out a sob which was very much strange for him to do and pressed his hand against his face, feeling the hardness of the ring on his left finger on his cheek. He let his hand fall from his face and his gaze found the ring glinting in the overhead light.

"_**It's your **_**present**_**, Ed. Take it and open it." **_

_That time… with him… it felt so…_

"_**Mustang? Thanks. I really like the ring."**_

_Damn that guy…_

He clenched his hand into a fist, allowing a low growl to escape his lips.

_I really __**hate**__ him sometimes._

Pushing himself off the door, he thundered down the stairs and was out the door in seconds. At that moment, he just wanted to get away from the apartment and from his user.

He found himself walking alongside the black railings of Central City Park, ignoring everything else around him: the fact that there were a few people about the street on a cold day like this and that the snow which had been thick and fluffy a few days ago had been reduced to slush. As he made his way down the street, his mind continued to race: What was he going to do now? How was he going to repair his relationship with his user?

"Yo," a hand touched his shoulder and the persocom stopped and looked up.

Maes Hughes stood there, wrapped up in a thick coat with a pair of earmuffs over his head. He was grinning down at him, his green eyes twinkling behind his glasses. Unexpectedly, Elicia was absent from his shoulder today.

"Oh, Hughes," Edward said and he gave a small forced smile. His eyes travelled to a person who stood behind the bespectacled man.

A gigantic man with a blonde moustache towered over them both, watching him with small blue eyes. The persocom tensed slightly at the intense stare that was directed at him. Who _was_ this man? Edward was sure he'd never seen someone like him around Central before –

Suddenly, the man smiled and before he knew it, a pair of enormous arms had scooped him up and crushed him into a muscular chest that vibrated when a booming voice thundered into his ears.

"Oh, you must be Mr. Edward, Mr. Mustang's persocom! I have heard _so much_ about you from Mr. Hughes! I am absolutely delighted to finally meet you, sir!"

Edward found himself screaming at the pressure of the embrace but his voice was stifled into the chest. Instead, he tried to push himself off but found that his arms were also trapped in the hug.

"So it is true what they say!" the man continued his gushing as tears and strangely, pink sparkles glittered around him. "You definitely _are_ as human-like as a persocom can get! The texture of your skin! The feel of your hair! The artistic structure of your ears! Why, you are an astounding persocom! I, Alex Louis Armstrong, salute you, Mr. Edward! You, sir, will be the first persocom to witness the fine body that I have inherited from my predecessors! Behold!"

And with that, the man, Armstrong, released him and tore off his coat and shirt, exposing the blonde of the bulging muscles. Edward reeled back, shocked at the shininess illuminating from the large figure and Hughes stepped in and pulled the shaken Edward away from Armstrong, who was oblivious of their uneasy looks and was too busy flexing his muscles.

"This is Armstrong," Hughes introduced the man properly as he straightened Edward's red coat. "He used to work with Roy before. He's here on business until New Years."

"Uh huh," Edward replied, still dazed from the embrace before shooting a glare at the smiling Armstrong who was still flexing his muscles despite the cold temperature. "What are you guys doing here again?"

Hughes chuckled at the suspicious tone in the blonde's voice, "I could ask the same from you. Well for your information, Ed, we are heading to _your _place to check up on you guys. Since we crashed into you out here, we'll all go together."

Edward thought of the dark-eyed glare delivered to him and frowned but said nothing. Hughes must have seen the expression on his face because he asked, "What's up?"

Edward shook his head and smiled wryly, "Nothing."

Throughout the walk back, Hughes began chattering on about Elicia and saying how her systems didn't work so well in the cold and she had to be sent to Winry's to get fixed. Armstrong, now fully clothed, entered the conversation at this point and declared with an air of pride how the Armstrong family were very good acquaintances of the Rockbells. Edward grunted and hummed in response to all this and pretended to pay attention but his mind was occupied with what was in store for him once the trio reached the apartment.

Mustang's apartment was still left as it was when they entered and Hughes and Armstrong shuffled into the warmer surroundings, shrugging off their coats and gloves. Armstrong studied the living room with his small blue eyes and commented excitedly on Mustang's taste in furniture when Hughes placed a hand on Edward's shoulder, his lips smiling. Edward blinked up at him, confused at the knowing expression on the man's face.

Hughes suddenly addressed Armstrong, the smile still on his lips: "Mr. Armstrong, I hear your Armstrong family tea is delicious. Can you make us some of that tea? The kitchen's just right over there by the way."

"Certainly, Mr. Hughes!" Armstrong said happily and flounced passed the stairs and disappeared off into the kitchen. The two males could hear him humming as he prepared to make the tea.

Hughes turned back to Edward.

"So, how are you Edward?" he said, his tone gentle.

The persocom blinked at him and suddenly realising what Hughes was talking about, scowled and began toying with the end of his braid.

"Alright."

"Are you sure? I heard about what happened between you two, you know."

Edward's eyes widened before his gaze dropped to the floor. "If that's the case," he began, his voice tense and quiet, "then you should already know what's happening."

"Tell me then," Hughes said, smiling widely but his expression was kind and patient. Sometimes Edward hated it when Hughes acted like this towards him.

The persocom huffed, letting go of his hair in order to stuff his hands into the pockets of his red coat. "He's…" Edward paused to blow a blonde lock of hair away from his face. "He's mad at me."

Hughes' expression changed to that of surprise. Edward became confused at the reaction and at the next question that Hughes put forward:

"Why is he mad at you?"

"Why?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "Because… because I nearly killed him," the blonde replied quietly and again, a wash of guilt spread all over him. "He's been mad at me since it happened. Acting like an asshole all the time… and I can't stand him like this. It's driving me insane…"

The blonde sighed and added weakly, "He hates me now, I just know it."

To his surprise, Hughes chuckled at his confession and the persocom glanced up at him, puzzled at the reaction he was getting. The green eyes behind those spectacles were twinkling again. "Oh, Roy's not mad at _you_," he said, snorting at Edward's last words as he ran a hand through his dark hair. "It's rare for him to be sick in bed like this and when he does, that guy's _always_ in a bad mood. Don't you let that get to you, Edward!"

"Huh?" Edward stared, his thoughts lost. Hughes merely continued clarifying: "I had to take care of him when he was sick a couple of years ago. A _nightmare_ it was for me. He was always complaining that it was too noisy when I'm around, wanted me out of his room all the time, I think he even threw things at me… oh yes, I remembered he chucked a radio at my head once. Ah, left one heck of a bruise too…"

Edward, after digesting some of this, let out a sigh. That was the Mustang he recognized.

Despite this news, it didn't bring much relief upon the persocom. He was still uneasy about Mustang, still conscious that he had injured the man, still owed the other an apology for acting like that.

"Why don't you talk to him if you're still worried?" Hughes suddenly suggested as if he had easily read Edward's thoughts. Edward twitched, feeling embarrassed at the fact that Hughes knew what he was thinking (how easy was it to read him anyway?) and looked away, a frown on his face.

"Tried to," grumbled the blonde. "But the bastard just doesn't want to talk."

"Huh, that's our Roy alright," Hughes grinned. "But it won't hurt to try again."

"I _have,_" Edward shot back, his voice suddenly fervent. "I _have_ tried. Again and_ again_ but it's just so damn _difficult_. He's making it so _difficult_ for me to talk to him. Sometimes, I just can't _stand_ him anymore."

Hughes hummed thoughtfully at this before he shifted his gaze back on Edward, "Tell you what. How about we cheer him up then? I mean, we can't have a grumpy Roy like this by the time it's Christmas. Why don't we throw him a Christmas party?"

"A party?" Edward was taken aback at the sudden change of topic. He suddenly recalled his so-called 'birthday' that Mustang had given him, that soaring feeling, that sheer warmth he felt at that moment and realised that it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"A party!" Armstrong's voice suddenly brought Edward back to reality. He realised that Armstrong, with his pink sparkles around him, had returned from the kitchen and had brought a tray of tea things with him. Hughes was nodding to Armstrong's words while sipping his cup of tea. "An _excellent_ idea, Mr. Hughes!" the gigantic man continued. "I will be honoured to organise this event for you, sir! I shall show you the traditional Christmas party celebrations that have been passed down the Armstrong generation for many, many years!"

"Thank you Mr. Armstrong for volunteering," Hughes gave the other a grin and turned to Edward. "Well, I guess it's settled then. I'm thinking of having the party here because of the ample space. Oh, and it's best to keep this a little secret – we don't want Roy hitting the roof when he hears that they'll be a party at his house on Christmas Eve."

"Are you sure about this?" Edward muttered while Armstrong busied himself in shooting off the possible paraphernalia needed for the upcoming party.

"Yeah, I think it's time Roy lightens up a bit," Hughes said as he finished his tea. "And as for you, _you_ should keep trying."

"What?"

"Come on, Ed," the spectacled man smiled again and dropped both teacup and saucer back on the tea tray. "You want to apologise to Roy, don't you? Just keep on trying. And be more _direct _with him, okay? I know it'll work out for you both in the end."

The blonde was silent, his lips pursed and uncertain. Direct with Mustang? He'd never thought of that before…

"Oh, and we have to see Roy now," Hughes added and began heading towards the stairs dragging a large suitcase Edward had failed to see earlier on. "Have some paperwork for him to look at. I'm sure he won't like this."

Edward chose not to join the two men as they disappeared upstairs. Instead, he kept himself in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table and thinking over what Hughes had told him. The persocom sighed, an action that was quickly becoming a habit for him. Trust Hughes to be all optimistic about the matter.

There was a roar from upstairs and something else was heard to be thrown against the door again. There was a clattering of footsteps racing down the stairs before Hughes and Armstrong appeared at the kitchen doorway, looking flustered from their run. Edward stood up from his seat, his face expectant.

"We'll be off now," Hughes announced. "He didn't like the paperwork, of course. I told him that he should have sent off his medical certificate three days ago so his papers could be passed down to someone else but he got all cranky and chucked a lamp at us instead. We managed to escape without a scratch…"

"I bid you farewell, Mr. Edward. Until we meet again–" Armstrong stepped into the room and tried to hug the persocom but Edward dodged the large arms, leaving Armstrong hugging the empty air instead.

"It's fine," he said to the two men and for a moment, he caught the wink Hughes delivered to him. Edward shuffled uncomfortably and nodded back at the man in acknowledgment.

"Let's go, Mr. Armstrong," Hughes said.

"Of course, Mr. Hughes," came the reply.

They left and the apartment became silent once more.

* * *

A few hours later became a surprise for Edward. When he took another dinner tray up with Mustang's pills to the bedroom, he found the man awake in bed with a small pile of papers in front of him. Next to the bed and on the floor were the rest of the stacks – three tall ones in all, waiting to be sorted through. Strangely, the remains of the broken mug and lamp were nowhere to be seen but the milk stains on the carpet remained. Had Mustang cleaned up by himself?

As for the man himself, when Edward entered, he did not say anything, did not snap at him to go away or throw a new object at him. He merely glared at the blonde for interrupting him and then looked away, averting his attention back to the papers. There was something else in Mustang's expression too – something almost like embarrassment at being caught in his actions. Perhaps the man knew that Edward had expected him to be resting and not sorting through _paperwork_.

Everyone knew that Mustang hated paperwork. It was a fact of life.

"I got your medicine," Edward announced, dropping the tray onto the bedside cabinet and eyeing the amount of paperwork on the floor that the man had to go through.

Mustang merely grunted in acknowledgment and continued looking through this sheet and that. There was silence between them for a while before Edward spoke again, breaking that silence.

"You're _working_?"

"Is that wrong to you?" Mustang snapped, still not looking at him. "Is it wrong for a man to do his duty for his company?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Edward countered hotly and told himself to calm down. "I'm just… surprised really… to see you actually doing _something_ instead of sleeping all day."

"I'm not entirely helpless, you know," Mustang shot back but the snapping quality in his voice had faltered.

Silence again. Mustang had not told him to get out of the room yet. That was a good sign.

"So, is it true then?" Edward turned to Mustang with hands stuffed in his pockets, "that you're always in a bad mood when you're sick?" He didn't know why he even risked that question but it was worth a try in being direct for once – thanks to Hughes.

Mustang was quiet at this and Edward tensed himself when a thick, unwavering air descended between them. He pursed his lips, waiting for Mustang's outburst and maybe a stack of papers hitting his face next.

Instead, the man snorted and murmured, "Who told you that?"

"Hughes," Edward supplied, a grin breaking out of his face. "He said you drove him crazy last time you got sick."

Mustang put down his papers, still not looking at Edward. "Oh yes. I remember that incident very well. Maes didn't come near me for two weeks after I recovered…" he broke off with a short laugh.

Edward found himself relaxing. Perhaps Hughes' advice did work.

"You don't really like it, do you?" the blonde continued, trying not to squirm at the directness of his words. Mustang finally turned to him, his expression too vague to read. Edward saw the man's eyes study him, at the way he shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. He ignored this and frowned, keeping his face steady. He needed to be firm with his words, he needed to keep talking. "You don't like being sick like this…?"

Mustang's dark eyes continued watching him before he finally broke the spell by blinking. "Very perceptive, Edward." It was the first time that he called him by his name in three days. "Did Maes tell you this as well?"

"No, I figured it out myself," Edward shot back, intimidated by the irritation in the man's voice. He paused to think of something else to say but his user suddenly cut in.

"I'm usually careful when it comes to my health," Mustang explained. "So yes, it _is_ rare for me to get sick enough to stay in bed. Just imagine yourself being chained to one place for days on end, having to depend on someone else for your needs, to be too restless to fall asleep… the whole experience overall is downright _unpleasant_."

All throughout this, Edward stood still, listening to the man continue his rant, watched that ashen, tired face frown, watched his dark eyes stare fixedly on him and began to understand the man's situation. Without really knowing it, he was nodding to the man's words, agreeing with him. He understood now – why Mustang was always in a bad mood, why he snapped at Edward to go away, why he picked on him and prodded him with accusations – it wasn't because Mustang hated him at all. He hated the state he was in – and he was eager to get back to his old, healthy self.

Seeing Edward nod vigorously at his words, Mustang faltered slightly, his eyes narrowed in slight suspicion. The persocom noticed this and embarrassed by his act, looked away, a stubborn frown on his lips.

"I should go charge up my batteries now," he murmured and headed for the door but on the last second, knowing that Mustang's eyes were following him, he stopped and spoke:

"Hey."

There was no answer but he knew the man was waiting for his next words.

"Back then," he breathed out, his voice coming out shaky, "when I… I…"

He thought he heard Mustang let in a sharp intake and forced himself to continue.

"Sorry."

He had finally said it and the room became so quiet that he could hear the quiet hum of the radiator by the window. He braced himself for the man's reaction.

"It's nothing," the words and the tone startled Edward so much that the blonde couldn't help turning around to face the man. He was surprised to see him smiling. "It's nothing to worry about. Don't tell me you thought I was angry at you for that. I know you didn't mean to do what you did back there. It really wasn't your fault."

Edward blinked back at him, not entirely sure what had happened and suddenly blurted out, "What? Of _course _it's my fault, you prick! I _hurt_ you back there. You nearly _froze _in that river when you dived in there and saved me…"

Mustang suddenly looked taken aback at Edward's words, as if he had just realised what Edward had voiced. And then he spoke too, his voice somewhat faraway. "Yes… I _did _dive in then. I wasn't even thinking that time. I just jumped. It was an unconscious reaction…"

_Like the time I punched you…_ Edward realised, his eyes widening. _I wasn't even _thinking_ that time…_

They fell into a mutual silence, just looking at each other and Edward began to realise just how alike they were. Him and Mustang…

He looked away, feeling odd all of a sudden. It was the same feeling he felt when Mustang had given him the ring, when they were just looking at each other and…

It was the rustling of papers that made Edward snap out of his thoughts and voice out his next decision. He hesitantly approached the dark-haired man and plopped himself onto the foot of the bed, grabbing a couple of papers from the pile in front of his user.

He felt Mustang's questioning eyes on him.

"I'll help you with these," Edward mumbled, keeping his eyes away from the man. He could picture the expression of disbelief on the man's face. Mustang did not say anything but after a few seconds, he turned back to his papers, signaling Edward's cue to begin the workload.

They began then, working on opposite ends of the bed, awkward at first but as time passed, they became so engrossed that the air around them became comfortable, almost enjoyable.

Outside, the snow began to fall again.

* * *

Another three days flew by and Christmas Day was approaching. Hughes and Armstrong had returned to the apartment frequently to discuss their plans with Edward. The blonde found himself overwhelmed with the amount of things that were to be done. Invitations were written up and given out (and a reluctant Edward had to play postman and deliver said invitations), Christmas decorations and all sorts of paraphernalia had to be obtained, a massive list of food items needed to be bought and Armstrong had kindly donated a tree for the occasion (shipped directly from one of the Armstrong estates in East City). Once most of the items were bought, there was the question of putting them up around the living room. He preferred to work with Hughes when doing this – when Armstrong was around, the man brought with him strange trinkets from his home. Edward remembered Armstrong trying to persuade him to put up several mini-statues of himself on the mantelpiece.

Of course, all of this had to be done in secret and Mustang was not to know anything. Edward was fortunate this time. Working late into the night had made Mustang sleep during the day. Once Hughes and Armstrong left the apartment just after dark, Edward would find Mustang already up, continuing with his paperwork. The dark-haired man sometimes asked the persocom if anything had happened during the day when he was asleep. Edward merely answered with a shake of the head.

On one particular afternoon, most of the decorations had been put up, transforming the once plain living room into a bright, sparkly place. At that time, Armstrong was out, buying something else for the party, leaving Edward alone with Hughes and Elicia, who was back from Winry's. The cute persocom was delighted to see Edward again, bouncing excitedly on Hughes' shoulder.

Then it came to putting up the mistletoe.

"Where do you put this?" Edward asked the man, who was sorting through a box full of Christmas baubles. The persocom held up the sprig with one hand.

Hughes glanced at it before looking at Edward and motioned for the persocom to hang it near the kitchen door. "It'll be good for surprising someone with a kiss at the doorway."

Edward's mouth dropped open. "A what?"

"A kiss," the man repeated and when he recognised the clueless expression on the blonde's face, he laughed. "You don't know this concept?" he asked with a grin.

Edward lowered the sprig and merely glared up at the man in irritation.

Hughes chuckled again, reaching over to take the sprig and walked towards the kitchen doorway. Edward shuffled on the spot for a while before he followed behind, wanting to know more.

"You see, Edward," said Hughes as he reached up to fix the mistletoe there. "It's a little Christmas tradition. When two people are standing under mistletoe, they share a kiss. Apparently, that's how I get to kiss Gracia for the first time!" he grinned widely at his words.

Edward stared up at the sprig hanging from the doorframe and scowled, noticing that both he and Hughes were standing under it. "Does this mean I have to kiss _you_?" he grumbled at the man. How strange people are to do such things!

Hughes realised just exactly what Edward had said and jumped away from under the mistletoe, laughing sheepishly. "No, no! Of course, not! You don't have to, of course!" he said but his laughing was cut off when Elicia appeared by Edward's side, holding her little arms out to him. "Elicia wants to give Ed a kiss under the mistletoe!" she squealed. "Can Elicia do that? Huh, Daddy?"

At once, Hughes swooped down and gathered Elicia into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "You're so cute! Daddy wants to kiss you again and again under the mistletoe!"

The word 'kiss' suddenly made Edward recall the time when he and Mustang crouched at the foot of a bridge and they struggled to regain the warmth they had lost when they plunged into an icy river.

Kiss…

_Didn't Mustang nearly…_

_Was that even considered to be a near ki–_

_No. No, too weird. It was nothing…_

Edward gasped when he felt a small pair of lips touch his cheek and he blinked when he found Elicia smiling up at him.

"There!" the little persocom exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Elicia gave Edward her kiss under the mistletoe! Was it nice?"

Edward touched his cheek.

"Yes, it was nice."

…_Nothing at all._

_

* * *

_

The fact that Christmas was arriving did not escape Mustang's notice. On one of their nights working together, Mustang began asking Edward how the outside world was doing now that Christmas was approaching. Edward was quite happy to talk about the crowds in the city square, the last minute Christmas shopping (the persocom never failed to complain extensively about this), the Christmas lights being put up around shops. The persocom was careful not to mention anything that would render the man suspicious of the secret party that was being planned for him downstairs. So far, Mustang had not complained of any noise nor noticed visitors always coming to his house everyday. It was looking good so far.

But the more he talked about Christmas, the more Edward became conscious of something. And that was the trademark of Christmas Day itself – the giving of presents. What on _earth_ could he give his dark-haired user? What did Mustang like anyway? The persocom found himself staring at his ring from time to time, as if asking it for the answer. After all, Mustang had guessed (nearly) accurately what Edward wanted. Perhaps if he kept staring at the ring, it would tell him something? Silly, really.

"Done!" Mustang suddenly broke the silence between them very early one night. Edward realised that they had finished sorting through the three tall piles of paper which were stuffed back into the suitcase. Mustang looked relieved at the completion of several nights' worth of work and he threw himself back to bed, rubbing his tired face with the back of his hand.

"It's all finished then," Edward confirmed again, also feeling the satisfaction of finishing the work. Glancing at the bedside table, he realised that Mustang hadn't touched his pills. "Hey," he called, reaching over to take the medicine and the glass of water. "You've got to take these."

Mustang pursed his lips in exasperation before he reached out and snatched the items, quickly consuming them without another word. Then he placed the glass back on the bedside table before his lips stretched out into a smile.

"No more paperwork," he said, his tone gleeful. "When I first saw the amount Maes brought to me, I thought I was going to faint with shock. Instead, I think I threw a fit… heh, doesn't matter anymore…"

Edward's face fell into a frown at the joviality Mustang was showing. "Yeah, and do you know how many things you managed to break in a week? All those things need to be replaced and it's hard to get things at this time of the year!"

"Really, Edward," Mustang chuckled, sounding more like his usual self albeit a little faint with slight fever. "You're concerned with housekeeping? I'm surprised."

"I'm a persocom, dimwit. I'm supposed to be," Edward said before getting up and straightening his black jacket (he took care now not to wear his red coat indoors). He turned towards the door, "I'm gonna go down and clean up–"

He broke off suddenly when he felt something pulling his jacket, stopping him from going anywhere. He turned back, surprised.

Mustang was holding onto his jacket, his face a mask of astonishment as if just realising that he had reached out and grabbed hold of the persocom without intending to.

"What?" Edward finally said, breaking the sudden silence between them.

Mustang's grip on his jacket tightened. "Stay," he said, his voice low.

"What?" the blonde found himself gasping because he had never had Mustang say that to him before.

"Stay here," Mustang murmured again and tugged on the jacket. "It's too quiet in here… it … it annoys me."

Edward realised then that it was only half-past eight and they usually called it a night before three in the morning. They were used to this routine – working side by side in the dim light until the wee hours. Now that all the paperwork was done, their routine was finished – there would be no more ranting to the man about last-minute Christmas shopping, no more of that quiet enjoyment of each other's company, no more…

"Okay," Edward huffed, trying not to show that he was too willing to cooperate. At the response, Mustang let go of his jacket and settled back to bed. "But _only_ for an hour and then you go back to sleep. You're still sick and you need plenty of rest and stuff…"

The persocom plopped himself onto the floor next to the bed and leaned back against the bedside table, grumbling about how troublesome certain persocom users can be before noticing that the other man had rolled over and was lying on his side facing Edward. He was now looking at him. _Watching_ him.

Edward blinked back, confused not to mention surprised at being gazed upon like that. They merely stared at each other in silence for a brief moment, like two people who have just noticed each other's presence. And then Mustang suddenly turned his face away and Edward could have sworn that he could see the blush on the man's face. How on earth did _that_ get there…?

Edward suddenly felt very awkward. He glanced away.

"…Been a while," came a murmur from the bed.

"Huh?" Edward looked back up at the man whose cheek was plastered onto his pillow. Mustang was not looking at him and instead, seemed very interested in his sheets.

"It's been a while," the man repeated again, much more clearly this time, "since anyone has kept vigilant by my side when I'm sick."

"Really?" Edward said as he began toying with the end of his braid again. "What about… about Hughes? Didn't he–?"

Mustang chuckled, "He wouldn't dare. I always tell him to go away everytime he comes near me. That's why…" he trailed off.

_No one's watched over you when you're ill._

Edward's lips pursed.

Mustang continued on, "the last person who stayed by my side in times like these was my mother."

Edward suddenly felt a spark, felt something being triggered in him when he heard those words. He stopped playing with his braid and tried to figure out what it was but it was no use. The spark faded as quickly as it came. He decided to brush off the feeling.

Mustang had fallen silent all of a sudden and when Edward turned to look at him, the man was staring at nothing in particular but his face seemed to show something there, somethinig faraway. Was it nostalgia? Was it sadness? Loneliness perhaps? What was he thinking, he wondered…

Hesitantly, Edward found himself reaching forward to shyly touch the back of Mustang's hand, which rested on the edge of the bed, with his metal fingertips. Automatically, his systems recorded Mustang's body temperature and found it to be satisfactory, that Mustang was recovering. But this wasn't what Edward wanted to offer. He didn't know what he was doing but somehow he sensed that this one touch he was giving the man – however small it was – was a silent message of comfort.

And Mustang, it seemed, understood that message because Edward felt the man's hand twitch from under his fingertips. A few seconds later, Mustang spoke without looking at him:

"Thank you."

Edward tried hard to hide the growing smile on his face.

* * *

**(end chapter)**

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* * *

  
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**Notes:**

OK, now we chat.

Notice everyone that there is an insight into Ed and Hughes' relationship. I noticed that Edward seems more open with Hughes in the anime so I tried too portray the relationship here to be similar. I hope it was alright for you guys. And how was Armstrong? Not too OTT I hope! And a Christmas party, why? I wanted to put a bit of fun since the last couple of chapters were all gloom and doom.

The Roy/Ed interaction was so – how do you say it – implicit? I guess it comes from watching so much anime and J-Drama. The characters don't talk so directly to each other and this feature just seeped into my writing. If you guys have problems understanding Ed and Roy's love talk (ok, interaction), feel free to ask me! Also, I liked the last bit when Roy was just watching Ed from his bed like that. Plus, Ed touching his hand. (Squee-worthy when I first thought of that).

Anyway, some of you have asked if Al will appear in the story. Good news for you all: Alphonse will appear in the story! But not so soon. Perhaps in several more chapters. I won't spoil anything more. (Grins)

A last note: I will try my best though to continue writing! And for those who are reading and enjoying this, thank you so much for reaching this far. Knowing how many people love this story gives me the will to continue writing. Thank you so much everyone!


	18. Seventeen

_**(NEW NOTE at the bottom. Please read!)**_

_Hisashiburi. _Happy Eid to the Muslims! May we all forgive each other's faults and celebrate on this joyous occasion. I would like to show my gratitude to the Reviewers last chapter:

**Spockie, FullmetalKeyblade-13, PKS, fullmetal'sgirl92, Fullmetal komusume, Xaiko, mrawgirl09, aquastreak243, IontheFonMaster, MARYLOVER, VermillionValentine, Ally Plz, Hikari Rio, mimifoxlove, Mina Hikari, Egypt Mesi, PyschoB, Amaya Zorifuki **(thanks for the mistletoe info)**, kitsuneluvuh **and** terracannon876.**

Plus, those of you who have put me on FAVS and ALERTS! (why haven't you talked to me yet?)

Usually after I finish the chapter, I read through the whole chapter again and edit and re-edit it. I'm tired already and I have a sore throat. I'll just post the damn thing up and let you guys read it.

* * *

**-17-**

On Christmas day when Roy groggily opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was not the ceiling of his room but Maes Hughes' face grinning down at him.

Roy literally tried to jump out of bed but got tangled in his sheets instead and ended up falling off the side, managing to utter a strangled cry:

"HUGHES!"

"Good to see you well, Roy!" said Hughes, taking no note of the fact that Roy was wrestling his way out of his sheets on the floor. Instead, the bespectacled man lifted up a hand in greeting as if it was normal for him to waltz into another man's bedroom and stare at them while they slept. "About time you're up," he continued breezily. "I was wondering if I should wake you up myself. Course, last time that happened, you kicked me right in the face..."

Roy, finally exhausted in wrenching his arms out of the tangled bed sheet wrapped around his body, glared up at the man above him. "What are you _doing _here? Why are you wearing... wearing _that_?"

Because he couldn't point at whatever he was addressing, Roy merely nudged his head towards the direction of Hughes' attire. Indeed, Hughes was wearing a woolly hand-knitted jumper with what seemed to be Elicia's smiling face stitched on the front.

"Good, isn't it?" Hughes seemed delighted at the acknowledgement. "Gracia made it for me. Isn't it cute? She even got Elicia's dimples! Can you see them?" he gushed lovingly, pointing at the chubby face on his jumper.

"Very nice," grumbled Roy and with mustered effort, he managed to throw off his bed sheets and shakily get on his feet. Just as he thought about telling Edward off for letting Hughes into his room, a pile of clothes was shoved into his arms and Hughes' voice floated towards him from behind the mound:

"What are you still standing around for? No time to lose! Take a quick shower – just a _quick_ one – put these on and hurry downstairs!"

"Maes, what are you talking abou–"

"No time to talk. Just go, go, _go, go_!"

He felt Hughes push him towards the direction of his bathroom but he planted his feet onto the carpeted floor on the last second, stopping himself from moving. "Wait, wait. Why are you here again? Why am I being told to hurry up? What's going on?"

From the corner of his eye, Hughes merely grinned again. "You have guests downstairs. You mustn't keep them waiting!"

"_Guests_? What guests?"

"Just get ready quick!" Roy was surprised at the amount of force Hughes used to shove him all the way to the bathroom.

**OoOoO**

When Roy staggered down the steps, showered and dressed, and stepped into the living room, he nearly turned around to run back upstairs. What was once his living room had now become spacious, sparkling and incredibly festive. A magnificent Christmas tree was shoved into the corner and wrapped presents and a hamper or two had been planted near its base. The walls were lined with colourful tinsel and indoor Christmas lights blinking red and green. In the middle of the room, a long wooden table had been set in which several plates of mouth-watering food were placed. Hughes was just crossing the room, heading to the front door. Seeing the smiling bespectacled man, Roy's shock finally died down and was replaced with anger. He took another step forward and opened his mouth to speak.

"Mae– _ouch_!"

Something had collided against his funny bone, sending a sharp pain up his elbow. Then a voice snapped from nearby:

"What the hell? Get out of the way! This is hot stuff I'm carrying!"

Edward had passed him, carrying an enormous steaming plate of grilled turkey, in which he carefully set down on the dining table and without sparing another glance at Roy, rushed back into the kitchen.

"Roy!" Hughes' voice sounded from the door. "Look who's arrived!"

A small group of people suddenly poured into the room. Roy recognised faces from the office – Havoc, Fuery, Breda and Farman cradling bottles of wine, boxes of crackers and wrapped presents; Winry Rockbell waltzed into the room wearing a yellow dress and reindeer antlers with twinkling lights, an enormous man wearing a Santa Claus costume hat followed behind her, the bushy white beard fluttering from the man's hearty laughing and there, with a persocom dog at her heels was...

"Good evening, sir," Riza Hawkeye, having caught Roy's flabbergasted stare, made her way over to him in order to deposit a small woven basket into his arms. Roy couldn't stop looking at his secretary. This was the first time in his life that he was seeing her in something that was not a work suit, namely a pretty violet button-up blouse and matching long skirt with an oriental design, complete with beret. Her blonde hair was loose and curling softly over one shoulder. She looked so different yet the same in some way. Perhaps it was the way she stood, posture rigid and professional as always. Or maybe it was her eyes – still watchful for any mistakes she could spot.

Seeing that Roy hadn't so much uttered a word at her greeting, Hawkeye brushed past him and murmured, "It's Christmas, sir. We all need a time to let our hair down."

It was only when Hughes sidled up to him, a gigantic knowing grin on his face that Roy snapped out of his astonishment of Riza Hawkeye's attire and blushed violently at his behaviour. Shaking his embarrassment off, he then rounded on his best friend, a muscle ticking in his temple.

"Explain. _Now."_

"Oh, don't be like that," Hughes said, laughing and slapped Roy on the back. "This was supposed to be a surprise after all. We just wanted to–"

Hughes' words were cut off when the doorbell rang again and he left Roy's side to answer it. Rolling his eyes, Roy was about to tell himself that he was getting even more annoyed when the bespectacled man's voice floated into the living room again:

"GRACIA! ELICIA! YOU MADE IT!"

"That the fruitcake Hawkeye was talking about?" said a voice by his side.

Roy turned to find Edward, standing near his elbow, eyeing the basket in his arms. Now that he could see the other up close, he realised that Edward was wearing a red knitted hoody jumper with the letter 'E' on the front. Roy raised an eyebrow. It seemed that Gracia Hughes must have been quite busy over the holidays. Fortunately for him, Hughes' voice reminded him of his predicament and he became irritable once more.

Edward, without waiting for an answer, made a grab for the basket but Roy wrenched it out of reach and seized the blonde's wrist.

"Edward, what the hell have you done to my house?" the growl in Roy's voice was apparent and the persocom merely scowled at the man's behaviour.

"Nothing, we just spiced it up a bit. We didn't do any damage," Edward snapped and tried to pull his arm back but couldn't.

"I never asked you to hold a _party_ at _my_ house while I was ill," Roy continued speaking through gritted teeth. "Do you know why? It is too troublesome having people doing who-knows-what to your things, it gets really messy and darn it, I don't like cleaning _up_ after people–"

"Okay, okay, I'll be the one cleaning up," Edward cut in, a grimace on his face. After giving his arm another tug but to no avail, Edward suddenly sighed exasperatedly – something Roy found very odd for the persocom to do – before the golden eyes glared up into his.

"Look," said Edward firmly. "It was Hughes' idea. I was the one who took it up. I mean, why not, right? You've been looking obnoxiously down in the dumps for the past few days. I thought this would at _least_ cheer you up a bit."

Roy blinked, suddenly recalling the same words he delivered to Edward on that so-called birthday party. When he opened his mouth to reply, he found that he couldn't because the whole idea of Edward trying to make him feel better drove the words out of his head. Something warm and pleasant blossomed in his chest – he felt moved, touched, grateful... just like the time when Edward kept vigilant by his bedside when he was ill.

His grip slackened, releasing Edward's arm from his grasp. The persocom looked surprised at this and, as he watched the expression of astonishment on his user's face, he began to shift uncomfortably on the spot. Edward spoke again and this time, his words were hesitant, uncertain, sounding almost embarrassed: "Well, you've been stuck in bed, being an ass all the time so I just thought – hey, don't – don't _look _at me like that. I'm only doing it because of that birthday you gave me. So now we're _even_, Mustang."

Fortunately, the sound of the doorbell ringing for the third time roused them out of their situation. As Hughes rushed to answer the door again, Edward snatched the basket from Roy's hands and fled into the kitchen, leaving him standing there by the foot of the stairs. Roy shook his head, trying to compose himself again and made his way to Hughes, who was ushering his secretary, Scieszka, clad in a green blouse and long black skirt, her mousy hair tousled from the cold wind and her glasses slightly askew, and a fair-haired man and a dark-haired woman he did not know into the crowded living room.

"Make yourselves at home!" Hughes told them before he settled next to Roy and grinned at him again.

"He wants to make up with you," the bespectacled man informed him and Roy knew exactly who the subject of the statement was. "Isn't that great, Roy?"

Roy sighed and scratched his uncombed hair. "Edward. Why did you put Edward through all this?"

"I didn't," Hughes replied. "He wanted to do it all. We just helped him out. I get the feeling that persocom is _something_, Roy. I mean, I wish Elicia were able to decide to do things like this for me on her own."

Roy realised that something else was bugging him as he watched some of his guests help Edward set the table. He bit his lip at the thought, uncertain of how to voice it until Hughes, by some weird coincidence, decided to speak out those very notions:

"Do you notice that Edward is learning to _care_ about you?"

Indeed, that was what had risen in his consciousness and now hearing it from Hughes shocked him even more. Roy looked at Edward ordering a flustered Fuery on where to put Hawkeye's fruitcake on the table before blowing a stray lock of blonde from his face. The persocom caught his gaze and Roy glanced away quickly only to find–

"Mr. Mustang!" gushed a deep, rumbling voice behind them and before he knew it, he was crushed into an embrace by the large man in the Santa Claus costume. Roy, arms flailing wildly at his sides, managed to push his face away from the gigantic chest and saw the pink sparkles glinting all around them.

"Armstr–" Roy tried to speak but Armstrong suddenly burst into tears and squeezed him harder.

"Mr. Edward is absolutely _remarkable_, sir! The commitment he holds in order to complete his tasks for this day, the determination I see in his eyes, the concern he feels for you! Why, it simply moves me so, so much!" At this point, Roy was now yelling as Armstrong's grip was too much for him to withstand and that he was sure that his ribs would crack at any moment. The large man seemed oblivious to Roy's struggles as he was far too distracted in showering Roy with his tears and sparkles.

"Oh, thank you for purchasing such a brilliant_, brilliant_ persocom, Mr. Mustang!"

"Get...off...Arm...stro–"

An uneasy Hughes, seeing that Roy's face was beginning to turn purple, finally decided that he should interfere.

**OoOoO**

Edward had never dreamed that he would find himself sitting at the dining room table with everyone else. Never had he experienced the nature of sitting down with a group of people who ate and chatted so merrily with one another. He sat there, unmoving and unsure of what to do as he couldn't eat anyway, and drank in the sights and sounds of how eagerly Farman and Breda were eating the food, the way Hawkeye delicately sipped her glass of wine, how Winry giggled at a joke Havoc was making, how Hughes was ranting on about Elicia to a displeased Mustang. The blonde eyed his empty plate and wondered absently how fruitcake tasted like. He sighed.

"Edward?" asked a soft, feminine voice beside him. The blonde startled at the gentleness contained in the voice and blinked at the smiling woman beside him. It was Gracia Hughes.

"Is everything alright?" she asked again when she got his attention. Edward nodded dumbly and thinking that he should ask, muttered, "Do I look troubled to you?"

Gracia merely smiled at his words, "Not really. But do you think it strange to be here? I mean, we're all eating and everything and you..."

"Oh, n-no!" he stammered out, waving his hands in a flustered way. "The whole thing is new for me. You know... I've read about these Christmas dinners in books but to experience it in real life..."

Gracia chuckled mellifluously. "So how do you find it 'in real life'?" she asked kindly, her green eyes twinkling like her husband's.

Edward looked at the sight before him, at the diners who chattered on, laughed, boasted and ate and it seemed that all of them – even Mustang – had this sort of brightness shining in their faces. Edward couldn't explain it but the fact that everyone was here, together like this, made him feel closer to each of them in such a way that he could never imagine. Realising this, Edward tried to fight back a smile but failed.

"Really great," he answered. He startled when Gracia suddenly reached over and touched a stray lock of gold hair that had fallen onto his face. Edward's mouth dropped open only to shut quickly when Gracia stroked the strand back into his forehead. He found himself unconsciously leaning into the touch. A familiar spark ignited in him and a feeling of solace washed over him as he stared at Gracia, baffled at his reaction to her touch. What was this–?

"How do you find my present, Edward?" Gracia drew her hand back and regarded him kindly.

Edward found himself speechless at first, still bewildered at what had happened to him, before he realised she had asked him a simple question.

"Oh, you mean the hoody?" Edward plucked the front of his knitted attire and then smiled widely. "It's really nice, Mrs. Hughes! It must have taken you so long to make this!"

"Oooh, it took a while," Gracia giggled, a small blush on her face, seemingly flattered at his comment. She picked up her fork and began cutting a small portion of turkey. As Edward watched her slowly chew it, he couldn't help but shyly ask her, "How's the turkey I roasted?"

She hesitated for a while before swallowing and then she turned and smiled again, "It tastes _wonderful_, Edward."

**OoOoO**

Edward, his arms full of dirty plates, passed Hughes and Havoc, red-faced and obviously drunk, as they clinked their glasses together and downed their drinks. Havoc, after emerging from his glass, hiccupped twice before picking up the half-empty wine bottle and poured another round of drinks. Hughes raised his glass again.

"To my cute little Elicia!"

"To beautiful women!"

Shaking his head, Edward came across the small group of women gossiping near the window. Gracia Hughes was just telling a story about Mrs. Who-Knows-Who's husband secretly meeting some other woman and how Mrs. Who-Knows-Who was planning to kill him for the clandestine affair. Hughes' secretary, Scieszka, had her hand over her mouth in horror, Hawkeye was listening with a stern expression on her face and the dark-haired woman who came with Scieszka was shaking her head disapprovingly at what she was hearing.

"That can't have been right," she was saying. Her voice was deep but had a musical ring to it.

"Oh, it's what that Mrs. Baron's been prattling on about, Maria," Gracia waved her hand, looking amused at Scieszka's reaction to the story. The mousy-haired woman suddenly blushed and quickly lowered her hand from her mouth and spoke in a flustered voice:

"Well, I've read in a number of novels how wives who know their husbands _are_ having affairs really _do_ go mad with jealousy and resort to all sorts of things! Like in _Roxas Boulevard_ by Diana Jonson, when the actress Mrs. Rachel Ashlee Winterborne the Third found–"

"BEHOLD!"

Edward flinched and veered away from the sight of Armstrong, who had just ripped off his Santa Clause outfit in order to flash his muscles at a frightened Fuery and the blonde man who had accompanied the dark-haired woman. Doing so, the persocom spotted Winry talking to Elicia somewhere near the Christmas tree. He cried out when Breda unexpectedly knocked into him. The short man was carrying a small plate of Hawkeye's fruitcake in his hand.

"Careful!" Farman steadied the small tower of plates in Edward's arms and regarded the blonde worriedly. "Do you need some help with that?"

"No thanks," the persocom huffed and nudged his head at Breda, who was spooning a large forkful of cake into his mouth. "Just tell _him _to look while he eats. He might actually do some damage here, like crash into people who're cleaning up!"

"Hey, sorry already," Breda grumbled and was escorted back to the dining table by Farman. Edward scowled at the two of them, glanced at his plates and marched into the kitchen, where Roy Mustang stood by the sink, rinsing a couple of spoons under the running tap.

"Here," Edward dumped the plates onto the counter, which was laden with dirty dishes and cutlery, before heading back outside. Getting no response from the dark-haired man, Edward paused at the kitchen door and stared at him. Mustang seemed deep in thought, eyes fixed on the spoons he was washing. Edward watched the expression for a while, trying to decipher it before he noticed that the corner of Mustang's lip was turned downwards. Mustang was – it definitely seemed to be – displeased at the fact that there were piles of dishes to wash and put away and the fact that he had to face the mess in the living room once his guests left the house. Edward sighed.

"Hey, you okay?" the blonde found himself asking before blinking in surprise at his own action. Mustang raised his head to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, I'm fine," the dark-haired man said slowly, also seemingly surprised by the question. He placed the clean spoons on the drying rack and picked up a dirty plate.

"Mustang," Edward said as he lingered by the doorway. "Why don't you go and enjoy yourself out there? I'll stay here and clean up."

He saw Mustang pause in his actions before those dark eyes regarded him at the door. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah," he said, smirking and something caught his eye from the living room. He turned away from the kitchen in order to watch Breda take out a couple of colourful boxes from a large shopping bag. What could those be...?

Roy rinsed his hands and with a last glance at the pile of dishes on the counter, rolled down his sleeves and buttoned them, walked to the door and as he was going through the doorframe, passing Edward who was standing there, golden eyes fixed on the party before them and then–

"H-HEY!"

"Wha–?" Roy stopped because he couldn't move any further. Something was holding him back, pulling his sleeve and when he tugged it, Edward yelled at him again.

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

It was only when he turned around that he realised the buttons of his sleeve were caught in Edward's hair. Edward was bending at an awkward angle and glowering at him with bright golden eyes. The persocom began to struggle, grappling at Roy's sleeve to untangle themselves from their situation. Roy found himself trapped against the wooden doorframe and a squirming Edward.

"I don't believe this," Roy heard Edward mutter as he attempted to separate them but was unsuccessful.

"Let me do it," Roy, surprised that he was more composed than Edward was, pushed the persocom's fingers away and carefully began to disentangle Edward's blonde locks from his sleeve buttons. Edward stayed silent as he waited for the other to finish the work. Once freed, the persocom pulled away from him and glared up at the amused expression on Roy's face, all before his eyes strayed even higher and something in his face changed.

Roy unconsciously looked up at the top of the doorframe they were standing under.

There, hanging innocently above them, was a sprig of mistletoe.

Roy's eyes widened with shock. When did a sprig of mistletoe end up in his house? Who put it there? How – it must be – oh, _Hughes..._

Suppressing a groan, Roy was just about to reach up and pull the damn thing off before his gaze fell on Edward and he was shocked again to find the blonde looking at him, that golden gaze unmoving, looking at him as if he was wondering, _waiting_, as if he was expectingsomething, _something _to happen right now...

It was at that moment, right then, right now, that Roy recalled something. Something on the night when he had asked Edward to stay with him and Edward had grumbled under his breath as he threw himself on the floor and leaned against the bedside table and the glow of the lamp illuminated his face and Roy... Roy couldn't stop _looking _at him that time because he had never noticed how Edward looked really _nice_ that night...

And Roy was stepping closer to Edward, leaning down to Edward's face without really knowing why. And Edward moved too, albeit slowly, uncertainly – his hand reached out for him, his expression shy, unsure but somewhat eager to find out–

BANG!

Roy and Edward jumped away from each other at the noise and the sound of laughter resonated from the living room. Several women had also screamed in surprise at the noise and Roy heard the dark-haired woman yell angrily: "Denny Bloch! You _idiot_!"

"We only pulled one of the crackers–" a man's voice tried to explain but it was drowned by the woman's yells.

Roy gasped for air as he leaned against the wall of the kitchen, clutching his heart in which he found was beating fast and loud in his ears. He realised that Edward had disappeared from the kitchen – it seemed that the blonde had supposedly forgotten the fact that he volunteered to wash the dishes. Roy stared across the room where he spotted his reflection on a darkened window and noticed that his cheeks were bright red and that he felt somewhat light-headed all of a sudden. He reached up and covered his face.

"What just _happened_?" he whispered through his fingers.

**OoOoO**

Edward fled the kitchen the moment he glimpsed Mustang's reddening face as the latter panted against the kitchen wall. The persocom returned to the party, determined not to look back at the kitchen, at the sprig of mistletoe that hung there, at what nearly happened between them. He tried not to think about the surprise he felt when Roy Mustang stepped closer to him, bent his face down so that their gazes were levelled and Edward had responded to this, wanted to know how kissing must feel like.

But he never expected to feel something else when that unexpected noise jolted them into consciousness. A rush of some overwhelming emotion – so much of it – flooded through him: Embarrassment? Shock? Horror? What was it? What was it? It was this that had made him bolt from the kitchen. It was this that had told him something. Something that was changing between himself and Mustang and he wasn't certain if he wanted to find out.

The blonde quickly swerved away from the guests and squeezed himself into a shady spot between the curtained windows and the Christmas tree. He smoothed back his tousled hair and sighed, tried to press down the feeling he was overwhelmed with. He made the mistake of glancing at the kitchen where he could still make out a dark-haired man's outline from beyond the doorway.

_...Mustang. _

"Oh, hi there!" a young man's voice snapped him out of his reverie and Edward startled when he found the two guests – the blonde man and the dark-haired woman – standing just beside him. The woman was gazing at him curiously.

"You must be Mr. Mustang's persocom," she said as she tilted her head to get a better look at him. "Amazing. You look very human."

"Yeah, so I've been told," Edward answered uneasily. The blonde man suddenly seized his metal hand and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Denny Bloch," he said with a toothy grin and gestured at the woman next to him. "This is my partner, the lovely Maria Ross."

"_Work _partner," Maria Ross reminded him and held out her own hand to shake Edward's. Up close, Edward noticed that there was a mole under her right eye. "We work in the Central Police Department, Investigations Unit. Mr. Hughes was kind enough to invite us. I've known him since we were kids."

"I see. Well, my name is Edward," Edward introduced himself before he found himself bombarded with Denny Bloch's questions.

"Which company made you, Edward? Is it Hinoba? I've always heard that the East City division's got these high-tech and sophisticated laboratories where they test out their newest products. Ever heard of the PS-3000 Microchip? Just add it to any device and it will–"

"Alright, settle down," Denny Bloch's words were cut off when Maria Ross cuffed him in the ribs. "The poor boy doesn't need to listen to any of that." She sighed and looked at Edward apologetically, "I'm sorry. Despite being in the Force for a year, Denny is still considered rookie material. Can't stop talking."

"I am not rookie material," whined Denny. "It's just that you guys keep treating me like a kid, is all."

Edward looked at the two adults who towered over him curiously. They didn't seem to look much like police officers. Still, he wondered how they worked so he decided to ask them.

"What sort of work we do?" Maria Ross echoed his question and he nodded in affirmation. She looked uneasy for a moment before she covered it up with a smile. "Well, at the moment we're put on paperwork duty. We sort out through this year's crime cases and file them. Not much work really. I can't tell you any more than that. Everything is confidential."

Denny Bloch must have seen the look of disappointment on Edward's face because he clapped his hand on Maria Ross' shoulder and laughed, "Oh don't be like that, Maria. I think it's okay to tell the kid a thing or two. Mr. Hughes said Edward likes to learn new things."

"Denny–" Maria shrugged the hand off her shoulder and turned to glare at her partner but Denny Bloch was already speaking to Edward, his blue eyes bright and excited:

"There are these two cases that Maria can't stop talking about in the office. Always rants about it to me anyway. You heard of Creator? Gilleroy Creator? Genius who makes security software programs? A couple of months ago, they found his house and his body all blown up. Initially, it was thought to be a gas leak but some people – like Maria, for instance – thinks it's a murder. Either way, not many people want to get into this further. I heard Creator wasn't such a friendly guy anyway. Did you know that the name 'Gilleroy Creator' is actually a pseudonym? Not his real name!"

"Denny–" Maria tried to interrupt but the blonde man was too engrossed in delivering his story to a wide-eyed Edward.

"And then there's the case of the mysterious disappearance of the pharmacist, Nash Tringham. Gone a few days after Creator's reported death. Vanished from Xenotime, his hometown, and left his two sons in charge of his lab. I mean, what sort of dad leaves his poor kids like that? Of course, Maria is convinced it's a case of kidnapping. The other guys say it isn't because they've run through Tringham's past records and found that he had dealings with shady guys before. It's most likely he's just on the run from them, I guess. Left his kids so they wouldn't get involved. Oh yes, Maria also thinks that the Creator case and Tringham case are connected in some way–"

"That's _enough_!" Maria suddenly slapped Denny upside the head and he cried out and clutched his head. "These files are confidential and you go around blabbing them to civilians! You should be ashamed of yourself, Denny Bloch!" Edward's eyes widened with shock when Maria seized Denny's ear, twisted it and the blonde man cried out in pain.

"Ow, ow! Okay, I'm sorry! Won't do it again!"

"Of course you won't," Maria growled and turned to Edward with a smile. "I'm sorry about all this, Edward. I think it best that we leave now before Denny accidentally spills out everything he knows to you all. Police business, you should understand."

"Y-Yeah, not at all," stammered Edward and he gulped at the sight of the teary Denny whose ear was still in Maria's grasp.

"It was lovely meeting you, Edward," Maria shook Edward's hand and with some difficulty, let Denny do the same as well without letting his ear go.

"Yeah, take care," wheezed Denny and together, the two individuals left Edward's side in order to fetch their coats.

Edward leaned against the heavy curtains, Denny Bloch's voice replaying in his mind – Nash Tringham? Gilleroy Creator? He shook his head. Like what Maria Ross said, police business should be left to the police. He had his own search to do, a much more personal one: why was he here? Why was he made this way? For what purpose was he created? He now accepted the fact that he was not made to be another Scar, another weapon. He wanted to find another reason, a _better_ reason for his very existence.

"Roy! What the hell are you doing cooped up in there! Come and have a drink with us!"

Hughes' voice made Edward look up. The persocom managed to see the red faced Hughes drag a frowning Mustang by the arm out of the kitchen, shove a used wine glass into his hand and Havoc, slightly cross-eyed and supporting an unlit cigarette in his mouth, poured Mustang a glass of wine.

"To Edward!" Hughes hollered to Edward's surprise as he raised his glass.

"To Edward!" echoed Havoc and Mustang before they clinked their glasses together and downed their drinks.

The moment Mustang lowered his glass, his eye caught Edward's and Edward unconsciously smiled because it was strange having someone toast their drink to you. Mustang, who seemed to understand this, smiled back at him before Hughes announced that they'd have another round.

**OoOoO**

The moment Roy opened his eyes, he was hit with a pounding headache. He groaned and tried to sit up, finding himself in his bedroom. He was still in the clothes he wore the night before, except that there was a rather large wine stain on the front of his shirt. There was a glass of water sitting on his bedside table and he seized it, tipped it back and let the cool liquid quench his thirst.

He couldn't remember most of the events of last night. He could, however, recall Hughes toasting everything in sight and Havoc refilling his wine glass every time it was emptied. He must have gotten drunk enough to collapse. Then Edward must have dragged him upstairs.

Roy stumbled out of bed, tripping over his feet and seeing his vision blur for a moment before he reached out and grabbed the bed post. Blinking his bleary eyes, his sight returned and he found himself staring at a small square package that lay at the foot of his bed.

"What...?" he managed to say but stopped. Sitting back down and shaking the grogginess from his head, he quickly unwrapped the package and pulled out a pair of pristine white gloves. He stared at them in wonder, rubbed his fingers over the soft material. Looking down, he saw a card inside the box scribbled with the untidy scrawl of a kindergartner:

_For R. Mustang,_

_Merry Christmas. From, Edward._

For a full thirty seconds, Roy Mustang never turned his gaze away from the little piece of card addressed to him. He was struck with disbelief at first, disbelief that such terrible handwriting had found its way on a blank sheet of card, that the simple message written on it made him blush darkly, made his heart soar with delight. Clutching the gloves, Roy bolted from bed, tripped over his feet again, steadied and flew down the stairs.

The living room was a mess. The Christmas tree had been pulled down, spilling pine needles and loose baubles all over the floor. A number of boxes lay open around the room, stuffed with tinsel, Christmas lights and ornaments. The dining table had been moved back inside the kitchen. Edward was there, throwing objects into one of the open boxes. He looked exhausted, his hair was tangled in his braid, his knitted hoody wrinkled and he was muttering incoherently under his breath.

"Edward?" Roy stepped into the room, avoiding the mess on the floor.

"Had a good sleep?" grumbled Edward and the blonde looked over his shoulder at him and smirked. "Hm, doesn't look like it. You look like shit. Must be the drinks, eh?"

Roy was suddenly hit with a feeling of unease and alarm. "I didn't do anything stupid last night while I was drunk, did I?"

Edward's smirk merely widened as he turned back to his work. "Not much. Apart from you dancing an Irish jiggle naked on the dining table– just kidding, just kidding!" Edward laughed when he saw Roy's face drain in colour. "You were right about one thing though. Cleaning up sucks, _big time_. I don't think I want to hold another goddamn party anymore."

Roy glanced around the room, "Have you been at it all night?"

"You mean all _morning_," Edward corrected him and he straightened up from his work and kicked a stray bauble away with his boot. "Those guys wouldn't leave unless I force them too. I think it was almost four in the morning when I kicked the last one out– Hey, what are you doing?"

Roy had moved from his spot at the foot of the stairs and was picking up the ornaments from the floor and putting them in one of the empty boxes. "I'm helping you clean up, that's what I'm doing."

"I already told you, I'll be the one who'll..." Edward's words faded when his gaze landed on something in Roy's hand. "Oh, you found them."

Indeed, Roy was clutching the white gloves that Edward had given him. He held them up to Edward with a smile. "Thank you for these. I never expected you of all people to give me a present."

"Well, they were on sale," Edward mumbled, actually sounding embarrassed. "I have a matching pair. It's two for the price of one. I thought I should just give the extra pair to you."

They suddenly lapsed into a brief, awkward silence. Roy felt some memory nagging him, trying to get him to remember something but in his alcohol-induced stupor, he was unable to recall it. He realised that something had changed between himself and Edward and the more he stared at Edward, stared into those golden eyes, the more he felt the need to reach out to him, touch him and tell him, _Thank you. Thank you for giving me this gift. _No, that wasn't it. _Thank you for being here with me now._ No, it wasn't that too. It was something like: _I _feel_ something for–_

"Ouch!" something sharp had pierced Roy's finger and he realised that he had unconsciously tightened his grip on one of the baubles he was holding and his skin had caught the sharp end of a hook. The sudden movement broke their moment and Edward turned away and resumed the workload. Roy, after quickly stuffing the white gloves into his pocket and tossing the bauble into a random box, called Edward:

"You should go and charge up, Ed. I'll continue the work. Believe me, you look like shit too."

At this, Edward laughed before he stood up and swept the debris from his pants. The blonde then picked his way across the room and sprinted upstairs without another look. Roy had been watching the other's expression from the corner of his eye, noted the way Edward's lips pursed, the way his eyebrows furrowed. It was the expression someone usually had when they were blushing with embarrassment. There were no pink tints on Edward's cheeks though – but Roy knew the look well enough to know what he was seeing.

Roy turned back to the work in hand, trying to see past the mess he was in. Tossing another set of ornaments into the box, he shifted a bit and felt something under his foot. Leaning down, he picked up the object.

It was a squashed sprig of mistletoe, its white leaves dented and the red berries gone.

Suddenly, a rush of memories, as clear as day, hit him then. They had been standing under the mistletoe... Edward and himself... Roy had leaned down and Edward had reached out for him, ready to...

Realisation dawned on him again. Something had changed between Roy and Edward, he knew that. But whatever it was, whatever this change was, he was not sure if he wanted to find out.

Fighting back the blush on his face, Roy tossed the sprig into the box and turned away.

**

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(end chapter)

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**Notes:**

Roy and Ed's relationship have gone to a new level. What will happen next? Originally, there wasn't going to be a near-kiss scene here. But a reviewer from last chapter brought up the idea so I decided – why not? Let's try it out and see! The result? Confusion. Roy is beginning to see Edward a little differently now. I also notice they seem tender (?) with each other? Roy saying 'Thank you' more often? Edward helpfully putting a glass of water by the bedside table for Roy when he wakes up with a hangover?

The Christmas party scene was a nightmare to write. I also found Maria Ross and Denny Bloch somewhat difficult to portray. Gilleroy Creator is mentioned again. Why hasn't Ed picked up on this yet? Oh well.

Well, my dear Readers. I would very much like to know what you think of this chapter. Was it okay? Was the hair-tangling a silly excuse for Ed to look up and see the mistletoe? How can Roy not recognise Armstrong in that Santa Claus suit? Why did Ed react when Gracia touched him? Don't you think the fact that I made Hughes and Ed wear knitted attire remind you of _Harry Potter_? Was there very little dialogue with the other characters like Winry, Elicia and Fuery? Oh my gosh - a mentioning of the Tringham brothers! Is Roy really horrified at the fact that Edward can't write properly? Is Roy in denial at his growing affection/feelings for Edward? Do you think Edward might feel something for Roy too? Aich, how can you tell? =D

**I've given you something to think about so give me your thoughts! I'd love to hear some of your little theories on this. Go and press the little button there! **Until next chapter~!

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ANOTHER NOTE (29/09/09) = **Hi guys. Just want to let you know that I've revised the chapters of this story and posted them all up again. There won't be many changes except for a few facts and grammar mistakes that don't add up. However, it is the Prologue that I've done most revisions on because the content in there doesn't match up with the rest of the story so I had to change it to match the intended plotline. There are also other bits in the story which I had to change because I found out that some of the content was redundant. **So I recommend you to read the whole story again if you can, especially that of the Prologue chapter.  
**

I apologise in advance if it makes your reading confusing/inconvenient. You don't have to read it all again if you don't want to, although it's best if you do want to understand this story a little better. Cheers.

xx Noriko


	19. Eighteen

Yes, it has been **four **years. Four long years since the last update. Four long years on hiatus.

But before you can jump with joy at this unexpected update and my return from the dead, I need to say this first:** I want to thank the reviewers of this story**. If it weren't for your long, kind reviews, your helpful encouragement and your desperate pleas for me to never to stop writing this story, I wouldn't have mustered the Writing Juice I had to sit down, plan out this next chapter and write it all up in a few days. It's been a long time since I ventured in the FMA fandom so it has been very difficult for me to get back into this story. But one miraculous morning, I happened to randomly click the _mFM_ Reviews button, sat back and read through pages of your comments. Goodness, these comments.

Your reviews - detailing your thoughts about each chapter, about what you liked and not liked, about what you think could happen next, about my writing and my ideas - your reviews have helped me so much for they have touched me deeply in my heart and reminded me why I love writing this story so much. They became the necessary fuel to get me back on track with this story and attempt a new chapter. And for that, I am so grateful to all of you for your support and I thank you for all those reviews, favourites and alerts. It's been one heck of a journey.

I dedicate this extra long chapter - spanning **12, 186 words** - all just for you, Readers, for not giving up on me. I invite you now to sit down with your hot cup of tea and some biscuits and brace yourselves for a (hopefully) emotional ride. Onwards then!

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** -18-**

When Roy woke up one morning, it was still dark outside. He turned to his bedside table to check his alarm clock only to find it gone. He squinted at the empty space, trying to remember exactly what had happened to it when the memory of him throwing the clock at Edward during his brief period of illness came back to him. Sighing, he groped around in the dark to switch on the bedside table lamp so that he could check his wristwatch instead, only to discover it, too, had gone.

Ah, Roy suddenly remembered: Christmas day, just as he finished cleaning up and was stumbling back to bed with his headache, he had tripped over a wire, sending the lamp crashing to the ground. After sweeping up the remains and dumping them into the bin, he ignored the lamp's absence for the next few days because he had no problem sleeping in the dark. Now, he realised he rather missed it.

When he came down to breakfast the following morning though, he discovered his favourite coffee mug was missing.

"Edward," he called, squinting at the crockery that was neatly arranged in the kitchen cabinet. Somehow there seemed to be fewer plates, bowls and mugs stored on the shelves. "Coffee mug," he grunted through the haze of sleepiness that still hovered over him. "Where?"

"You smashed it, remember?" Edward muttered from over several frying pans. He was cooking eggs, sausages and pancakes at the same time and he was getting rather good at it too. "You should be more careful with your own things when you get sick. Don't come crying to me when you discovered your favourite mug got smashed just 'cos you threw a fit."

Roy discovered later on that a list of the things he had destroyed while he was ill was stuck on the fridge door with a magnet. It was written on a small piece of paper with Edward's untidy, kindergartener's scrawl.

"Is this really it?" gasped Roy as he perused the list which included items from crockery to furniture to the house lighting ("your tantrums actually cause short-circuits, you know") and several electronic devices including his alarm clock, his mobile phone and the toaster ("don't look at me. You got mad when the toaster refused to spit out your bread one morning").

"Did I really do all this?" Roy groaned weakly, staring down at the list in his hands. He startled when Edward loudly plunked down a large plate of his breakfast and sat down opposite him. "Yes you did," he answered bluntly, his expression serious not to mention a tad bit accusative. "And yes, you should feel ashamed of yourself."

"I can't remember half the stuff I destroyed on this list," said Roy, shaking his head. His hair was getting long for his fringe was now obstructing his sight. He pushed it out of his eyes.

"Were you _that_ delirious when you got ill?" Edward said, scoffing. He plucked the list out of Roy's hands and pushed the breakfast plate in front of him. "Go eat. When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep anyway?"

"Last night _was_ a decent night's sleep," Roy replied straightforwardly, picking up his fork.

"Funny, you could use a few more," Edward commented with a frown as he studied the other up and down. Roy guessed that Edward must have noticed he still looked a little pale this morning. The persocom held up his metal hand, "May I?"

"Yeah, sure," said Roy distractedly, offering an open palm to the other and when nothing happened, he glanced up and saw that Edward had hesitated in his actions, like he was unsure about what he was about to do. When the persocom noticed his puzzled gaze, Edward reached out and very lightly touched the inside of Roy's palm with his metal fingertips so that he could read his temperature. He found the tips of Edward's fingers pleasantly warm on his skin. For one mad second, he felt the urge to take the whole hand in his.

"You're getting better," was Edward's verdict as he withdrew his hand in a sudden quick motion. It almost looked as if he was snatching it back to avoid being zapped by a live wire. Roy quickly took his hand away as well. The skin of his palm was tingling and he rubbed the sensation off with the hem of his pyjama top.

"So the list," began Roy, regaining his composure and spooning a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"The list," said Edward, holding up the piece of paper. "You know what we've got to do."

"We could do it tonight." The shopping, of course. They both meant shopping to replace the broken items on the list.

At Roy's suggestion, Edward gave him a deeply scrutinizing look. "Do you even know what tonight is?" he asked, shaking his head slightly. "Boy, having no alarm clock sure messes you up. You don't even know what day it is, do you?"

Roy snorted and realized his mistake when a bit of egg went down the wrong pipe. He coughed, "It's Wednesday."

Edward rolled his eyes. "It's Sunday. It's also New Year's Eve."

Roy stopped eating at once. A slice of pancake peeled off his fork and flopped messily onto his eggs. It was already the 31st of December. The New Year was almost upon him. Sometimes he couldn't believe how fast time flew. "Then _when _do you want us to buy these things anyway?" he asked, ignoring his fallen pancake slice and absentmindedly played with a piece of sausage with his fork instead.

"I dunno," Edward shrugged. "Tomorrow maybe."

"You know very well that shops close on New Year's Day. Let's just get these things today. I'm starting to miss my table lamp. Wait, is 'table lamp' on that list? Could you put that on the list? Wait, here's a pen–" Roy tilted his seat backwards to balance it on two legs, a habit he knew Edward greatly disliked, and reached for a stray pen on the counter near the wooden block that held a set of kitchen knives. He slapped the pen in front of Edward.

"Why don't _you _write it down?" Edward complained.

"Well, I'm in the middle of eating, aren't I?" Roy said with a smirk. He pretended to be busy skewering some of the eggs, sausage and pancake all onto one fork. Edward looked like he wanted to argue but he snatched the pen up instead and carefully wrote _TABLE LAMP_ on the piece of paper with his left hand.

"Done," he announced, smoothing the piece of paper out. "I guess we'll go to Central Parishes again. They're still having that End-Of-Year Sale. Oh damn, this is going to be a bloody _nightmare_."

Indeed, when Roy and Edward drove to the Central Parishes, they found themselves circling the crowded parking lot several times before they could snatch an open parking space. By the time they got out of the car, it was already noon and the winter sun shone weakly down upon them through the haze of cold air. Despite so, nothing could prepare them for the sight of the department store the moment they stepped into its well-lit surroundings.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Roy murmured as they stared at the mob of people flowing through the aisles of the department store like a multi-coloured swamp. Giant labels announcing Special Offers for the End-Of-Year Sales hung from the panels on the ceiling. There were display carts everywhere, their products knocked askew from their careful arrangement into a messy, disorganised pile while others were left bare and empty, all its the products sold out.

"This is worse than the Christmas sales," Edward pointed out in horror as he stared incredulously at a pair of women who seemed to be having a tugging contest with a designer bag. A couple of security guards were pushing past the crowd of shoppers in order to reach them.

"We should just get our stuff from the list and get the hell out," Roy advised as he motioned for Edward to take out their list. The persocom dutifully pulled it out from the pocket of his coat, smoothing it with his newly gloved hands. They were the white gloves that were identical to the ones that Mustang was also wearing.

"Let's get this over and done with," muttered Edward and they set off.

It took them most of the day to gather up the things they wrote on the list. Edward decided he rather enjoyed shopping with Mustang in circumstances like this. It was almost like a game to them in which one of them pushed the trolley around and instructed the other to search for their next item. The aim of this was to collect the shopping items as fast as they could without much trouble. It proved easier said than done though when Edward almost got into a fight with an enthusiastic house-wife who was determined to get a set of spoons for her elderly mother. In the end, he decided to let the spoons go. Roy had been wandering nearby and he was having trouble fighting the urge to laugh out loud at the incident.

By four-thirty, the day was beginning to grow dark. They joined a long line of shoppers all queuing up to pay for their purchases in the electronics section of the store and they finally had their turn twenty minutes later.

"Rough day?" said the cashier, a pretty young woman with long, blonde hair that she let loose from her braid the moment Roy and Edward's turn came.

"You wouldn't believe it," Roy agreed with a sigh. He felt weary and exhausted from shopping extensively. He was tired of examining items, tired of fighting through the crowds, tired of the fluorescent lights in the department store. He longed for his plasma screen TV, the couch in his living room and the blanket from his bed. Also, to hell with his stupid table lamp for being the incentive for bringing them here in the first place.

"I can relate," chatted the cashier as she took their items and began to manually type the codes into the cash register one by one instead of scanning them directly like she did for the last 4000 customers she served. "It's been pretty hard on me too. Today felt like a 2000-hour shift to me. You know. Zaps the strength out of a poor girl." She kept glancing at him, meeting his eyes, in between her typing. Beside him, looking as exhausted as he was, Edward was eyeing them both with a frown.

It was then that Roy was beginning to realise that the cashier was casually flirting with him. He now noticed it from her gaze, or the way she was tilting her head, the way she had let her hair loose so that it curled softly around her shoulders, the way she smiled.

"Could you go a little faster?" came Edward's suggestion, delivered in a tone of exasperation and impatience. "You still have to serve 34 more customers after us." Although the comment was meant to be helpful, Edward made it sound a little intimidating instead. Roy sent the other a stern look.

"Be nice," he hissed lowly.

"Make her go faster," muttered Edward back. "I'm already running on low battery as it is."

Roy turned back to the cashier with a smile. "Is there something wrong with your scanner?" he asked politely. "We're sort of in a hurry."

The cashier blushed. "Oh, _oh _no. I'm sorry. Ah, it's just, ah," she picked up the scanner and waved it about. "Doing this about two hundred times gets a little tiring, you know what I mean? So, I thought I'd stretch my fingers a little if I typed the codes in instead." She bit her lip and smiled through it and then suggested weakly in an embarrassed tone, "You don't mind if I just scan the items, do you?"

Roy couldn't help but chuckle at the cashier's flustered manner, "No, no, _please_. I insist."

"Sorry about that," she said and picked up the box containing Roy's new table lamp. "Oh, I have one of these too," exclaimed the girl with a grin as she scanned it in. "Really good, this one. You can adjust the intensity of the light. Also has the options of having voice-command or touch-sensitive if you're the nostalgic sort. Only fault it has is that you have to remember to turn it off all the time when you're not using it or it can overheat."

"I'll keep that in mind," Roy answered with an affirmative nod.

"So, uh, going anywhere nice later on tonight with your wife or…your girlfriend?" she continued casually with a smile, tilting her head a little.

Roy shook his head and his too-long hair got into his face again. "I'm actually not married or with anyone," he informed her, unconsciously reaching up to push his hair back. He thought he heard the cashier let in a sharp intake of breath and when he glanced at her, she was blushing wildly on the spot. Beside him, Roy could _feel _Edward's disapproving scowl on the side of his face.

"Oh wow, me neither," said the cashier, sounding a little breathless. "I guess we both aren't going anywhere nice on New Year's Eve, huh? What a strange little coincidence," she let out a girlish giggle before quickly stifling it, looking very embarrassed at her behaviour. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I'm so sorry. It's been a long day for me. And I'm sure it's the same for you too. I get kind of lonely when I come home on Sale Days like this. You know what I mean? Now it's New Year's Eve and my parents are out of town and my sister's having a baby so this is me, alone again, not going anywhere nice. Maybe…" she paused and a shy and hopeful smile formed on her lips. "Maybe we could _not_ go anywhere nice together…?"

Roy studied the cashier once more and acknowledged the fact that she was indeed rather pretty and he guessed that she was a couple of years younger than him; someone who just got out of university and was working a job at the department store in order to pay off her student loans. Despite all this, he realised there was something awfully off about the situation he was in because this was familiar, oh-so-familiar to him, as this was a scene he'd been in many times before. But now something was wrong, something was missing and it felt like a scenario where an actor from a theatre play had forgotten to deliver their lines, causing the performance to collapse around him.

The girl was still looking at him, expectantly and hopefully at him, and Roy realised just why this whole scene felt wrong: He _wasn't_ flirting back. Even when he'd pushed the hair out of his face and most definitely made the cashier swoon off her feet, it had been done unintentionally. He wasn't flirting back with her. He used to do it all the time. It used to be an automatic response. Now, he felt nothing, did nothing, and it was foreign and very unlike him. Was he simply too tired to do so? Just how much had he changed these last few months? For a moment, he was tempted to take up her offer because it was something that he should do but the thought of Edward at home alone on New Year's Eve stopped him. Last year, he wouldn't have minded taking another girl out but that had been a time when he came back from work to a dark, empty apartment. Now, Edward was there every time he went through the front door, usually with a scowl on his face and a new insult on his lips.

He realised he had been staring at nothing for almost a minute when he felt Edward's elbow nudge him sharply and his low hiss of "Hey, Mustang" by his side. Roy roused to find the cashier still waiting for his answer but the smile on her face was slowly fading. Noticing his lack of attention on her, the smile returned, although delivered in a wry manner, and she turned to total up the amount, her cheeks bright pink and her face looking dejected. Instantly, Roy felt awfully guilty for his rudeness and swallowed hard, quickly fumbling into his wallet to pull out a wad of Cenz and hand it to the cashier with a mumbled apology.

"No, _no,_ _I _should be sorry," said the cashier apologetically. "I shouldn't be coming on to you like that. I've been serving customers all day and I haven't met– you know, well… it's just that you–" She let in a deep breath as she expertly counted Roy's amount. "You- You just look amazing, okay. For a customer, I mean… well, you know what I mean." She laughed sheepishly and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Er… thanks," Roy replied uncertainly, also rather taken back at the cashier's bold, straightforward honesty.

"Tell you what," she said, still looking hopeful as she cashed in the amount. "I'll write my number down for you on your receipt if you change your mind. We could just hang out or something. As friends, I mean. Contact me sometime." She deposited the change and his receipt with her number on it onto his waiting hand and Roy felt her fingers brush the skin of his wrist before she drew back and winked, "Have a Happy New Year. Hope to hear from you soon."

The walk back to the car was silent, both Roy and Edward seemingly too exhausted to speak but were mutually relieved to emerge into the cold night air, away from the stuffy interior filled with crowds of people. Once they were on the road heading towards the direction of home, Edward began to speak.

"You going to call her?" he asked, a sharpness present in his tone. He wasn't looking at Roy when he spoke for his gaze was directed on the road ahead. Roy glanced over to study Edward's expression. The persocom was frowning, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared straight ahead.

"Are you okay?" was Roy's comeback instead. He had a feeling that he knew what was going on with Edward and found himself a little bewildered at the thought.

"Why are you asking me that?" There it was, that tone. He recognised it. He wasn't sure if Edward did too.

"If I hadn't known better," Roy chose his next words carefully. "I'd say you were jealous."

Perhaps he wasn't wise with his choice of words after all because Edward turned around and said darkly, "I am_ not_."

"Fine, so you _sound_ jealous," Roy put it another way and he'd struck gold because Edward looked taken aback at his words and leaned back on his seat, now mellowed.

"I don't understand. How _can _I be?" murmured Edward in bewilderment. "The way I look at it, right. That girl, she was pretty. You know, for a human. Pretty for a human. And she was attracted to you. Anyone can see that. I asked you just now whether you'd take up her offer which I doubt you won't. I didn't expect to say it in such a way that it made me sound jealous. What the hell would I be jealous of anyway?"

"I don't know," Roy murmured with a shrug. "You were probably jealous because she liked me."

"_Everyone _likes you," Edward corrected, and then he added in an accusative tone, "Because you _make _everyone like you. You charm them, make them think you're a great man. But I know the real you: you're bossy, you're manipulative, you're obnoxious and sometimes, you get borderline annoying. Which is often. Now why would I be jealous of another girl who wants to get to know the real you when I've already been there and done that?"

_Touché_, Roy thought. Although, despite the logic in Edward's speech, Roy couldn't help feeling that it just sounded like a case of denial, as if Edward was convincing himself that he shouldn't be feeling jealous. But Roy knew better. One day in the past when he and Edward were still on bitter terms, Edward had dealt with Roy's flirting with random women with scorn and contempt. Now, it was jealousy in denial. Goodness, things sure had changed between them.

"So _are _you going to call her?" Edward asked the question again, breaking through Roy's train of thoughts. "And I'm asking you this out of curiosity and nothing else."

Roy wasn't sure what to answer. He wanted to tell Edward that yes, he might actually call the girl later because she was attractive and had asked him out. He wanted to tell Edward that no, he wasn't really interested in her because he knew she was just going to tell him about her hobbies or which city she wanted to travel to in a few years' time. He wanted to tell Edward that maybe he'd like to invite her to their house so they could watch a DVD trilogy together until the TV announced the arrival of the New Year. He wanted to tell Edward he'd rather spend tonight like every other night, where Roy channel-surfed until two in the morning and Edward sat unmoving in the next couch, engrossed in his latest read and sometimes they fell asleep where they lay and woke up to a late winter morning where the sun had just begun to rise in the horizon.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in this anyway?" he asked instead, hoping to avoid the question as well as indulge in his own curiosity as to why Edward thought this was a good choice for a conversational topic.

"Just answer the question, will you," grumbled the persocom demandingly.

Roy sighed in defeat. "No, I'm not going to call her."

"You're not?" Edward sounded perplexed by the answer.

"What's wrong now?"

"You know, a few months ago, you'd have charmed the pants off a girl like that," Edward said in a matter-of-factly tone. "_Literally _too," he added with amusement. "But you didn't. You just stood there, looking stupid. Like her flirtations just bounced off of you."

Roy frowned at the comment, not really finding it at all funny. Sighing wistfully, he found himself murmuring, "Yeah, I know, right?" to his and Edward's surprise.

There was a pause. "What happened there?" said Edward tentatively, the astonishment evident in his voice.

"Not really sure," answered Roy with a shrug. He then added thoughtfully, "Something good, I suppose." He didn't want to mention that Edward was the change, that Edward was the thing that happened to him because he was a different man now, different from the one he was months ago, different from before Edward came into his life. Somehow, Edward made him a little _better_.

When Roy accelerated the car the moment the set of traffic lights turned green at a T-junction, Edward spoke again. "This has been on my mind for a while but… How about you tell me about your old persocoms?" he said, his tone quiet but with a tinge of insistence.

"What about them?" Roy said, slowing down to a stop to let a group of teenagers, some wearing flashing New Year party hats, others were blowing whistles and vuvuzelas, amble across the pedestrian crossing to get to the other side of the street.

"I dunno…" said Edward with a shrug. "Havoc tells me a lot of things but I want to hear it from you."

Roy glanced at Edward, unaware of the fact that the teenagers outside had finished crossing the road, leaving it clear from them to drive on. "Well, I guess it was going to come up sooner or later. You asking me that." He shuffled in his seat and finally realised that the road was clear of passing pedestrians. He put his foot down and the car shot forwards into the quickly darkening evening.

"I used to buy new persocom models all the time ever since I got promoted to department chief last January," he began heavily. "Every time a new model arrived, I sold all my old ones to second-hand stores or those shady markets. I think I've owned about twenty models or so this year. As you know, you're my latest one but you weren't my choice. I don't know what happened to the actual model I ordered but _you_ came to my address instead. I actually got you somewhat illegally, you came from some black market somewhere. Since I couldn't return you, Hughes insisted I keep you anyway." He let out a snort and his eyes became glazed as he stared into the road ahead. He remembered himself saying one warm afternoon a long time ago, "_I mean… just look at it. It's broken, it's malfunctioning, it's useless. Why would I even bother keeping it, Maes? I think it'll be better off recycled as a tin can or something…_"

"One time we thought you were broken," he continued musingly out loud. "We'd never expected you to be this special."

Unexpectedly, Edward snorted at his confession as well. "Well, that makes the two of us," he murmured and paused for a bit, as if he was weighing the next words in his mind. "You know what? I've only read about it or watched it in a video or whatever so I don't know if it's accurate or not, but this whole thing, with me waking up and learning and experiencing things? I imagine this is how it feels like, you know, to be born into the world. Like how humans are born into the world. And right now, right now, I want to find out why I'm here. The same way other people search for themselves. About who they are." He suddenly stopped when he noticed that Roy had raised an eyebrow and a smile at him. He cleared his throat, a habit he picked up from Roy, and looked away, appearing embarrassed that his musings had taken on a philosophical turn.

"Anyway," said Edward, suddenly business-like again. "Why _did_ you need to do that? All that buying and selling new persocoms?"

Roy hummed thoughtfully, his gaze back on the road. "I suppose… I liked the attention, you know? Being the first to get something new and amazing. I wanted to be recognised by everyone else, to have my name remembered. Doing so was my way to stay in the limelight, I guess."

"You liked to impress people," Edward bottom-lined it with a sneer. "Of _course_."

"Says the pot calling the kettle black," Roy shot back from the corner of his mouth, loud enough for Edward to hear. Edward looked confused at the expression and Roy could guess that the persocom was probably searching for the definition from his built-in dictionary. He was satisfied when Edward fumed on the spot once he understood what Roy was saying. Edward had a habit of boasting to his subordinates about his extensive knowledge on business and economics and occasionally electronics. He even began emailing Gracia Hughes about how his technique in cooking had improved immensely. Roy smirked at the thought.

"Alright, I guess I do too," admitted Edward in defeat. "Sometimes I can't believe we are so alike."

An awkward silence fell after that offhand comment. Roy thought it somewhat funny how the subject of their alikeness was an embarrassing topic for them to discuss. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence they found themselves in.

"So why ask me about those persocoms now?" he said, although he had an inkling of what Edward was going to say next and he was quite sure he knew what he was going to respond once Edward asked it.

"Because of one question," Edward said simply and hesitatingly, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know the subsequent reply. He turned to look at Roy and his golden eyes met his directly, "Am I going to end up like them too?"

The moment Edward put the question forward, they had arrived home and Roy had to turn away so that he could park the car on the curb, right outside the front door. After turning off the engine and sitting still for a moment – because he needed a moment to collect his thoughts – he turned back to meet Edward's expectant gaze. Roy noticed a hint of dread in the other's face. Dread and trepidation and – was that fear? Was Edward afraid of the possibility that Roy would sell him off the moment a newer, better persocom model became available for him to buy? A persocom that Roy _actually _wanted – an attractive female model that he could command to do what he wished, could dress them up in outfits that he liked, could perform as the functional machine whenever he needed them to be?

But now, Roy knew that all those persocoms lacked the personality, the creativity, the intelligence and the soulthat Edward possessed. No, what was amazing – and so special – about Edward were so many things: how quickly he learned things, the little human-like gestures and habits he picked up from others, the rare flashes of genuine concern that would slip out of his expression, the excitement that lit up his golden eyes. Edward was special because he had picked his own name and made the effort to help organise a Christmas party to make Roy feel better. He was _real, _he was more real than anything or anyone he'd ever met in his life. No, the moment when Roy let Edward go, it would be the end of something good.

So Roy shook his head slowly and simply said in a nonchalant tone, "No. No, you're not."

A second later, Edward's face changed and Roy decided he rather liked it, the way the persocom's expression could be so easily read, the way the dread and worry in his face visibly melted into absolute relief. Edward's lips twitched into a smile and he opened his mouth, perhaps to express his gratitude when–

"Because you're not fully trained yet," Roy added mischievously because sometimes he just. Couldn't. Help. Himself. "I don't think you'll ever pass as a proper persocom with an attitude like that. You still won't let me use you for e-mail. How can I sell you off when you refuse to even function properly as a computer?"

Edward's mouth fell open at the unexpected comments Roy was stupidly spewing out of his mouth before his whole face contorted into an angry frown and he seemed to have puffed himself up to his full sitting height, like a little puffer fish ready to attack or defend itself. Edward's eyes resembled raging little twin Suns, ready to explode. "_You_," he managed to spit out but his voice was quiet and seething.

But Edward actually held himself back from continuing his rage, his shoulders slumping noticeably as he stared a little longer at Roy, stared at the mischievous glint in his dark eyes, the smirk on his lips, and muttered, "You are purposely winding me up, aren't you?"

"Finally caught on, eh?" said Roy, his smirk widening. But mostly, he was impressed. He was impressed and maybe a little _proud_ because Edward was finally controlling his anger and was not taking Roy's teasing too personally.

"Go watch TV or something," Edward snapped, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car to collect their shopping from the car bonnet. "I've got an 800-page novel to finish before New Year's Day in a couple of hours."

"I _thought _you said you were already running on low battery," Roy said.

"Well, I _lied._"

As Edward departed with a slam of the car door, leaving him alone in the driver's seat, Roy Mustang thought back to the persocom's words and smiled. New Year's Eve. Aimless channel-surfing and some quiet, absorbed reading. He wouldn't have spent the remaining hours of the year in any other way.

**OoOoO**

The beginning of the New Year passed by quickly and uneventfully. Roy returned back to work two days later, fully recovered and initially cheery to be back in familiar surroundings, only to have his mood soured when he found new stacks of paperwork neatly piled on his desk and Riza Hawkeye passing him with a curt nod and an expectant gaze, while Black Hayate followed close by her heels. He also nearly fell out of his chair when he opened the shiny greeting card that was placed on his desk because a recording of Alex Louis Armstrong's voice bellowed out of the interior of the card, wishing him a Happy New Year and that he was sorry he couldn't stay longer after New Year's and also, did he like the personalised greeting card designed and hand-made by Armstrong himself as it was "one of the talents that have been passed down in the Armstrong generation!"

Outside his office, Fuery seemed to be in a gloomy mood because he had lost a considerable amount of money courtesy of a bet that he'd made with Breda and Farman relating to the failure of Havoc's New Year's date with a flower shop girl named Grace. While Fuery betted on the whole date being cancelled, it turned out that they _did _go on the date after all, only to have it end in a disaster because it turned out that Grace only agreed to go out with Havoc because he worked alongside Roy Mustang in the office and she hoped that Havoc would one day introduce him to her.

Overall, everything continued on normally like any other work day and Roy realised that despite everything that happened, it felt rather good to be back.

Outside, the temperature was mild enough to cause the snow to melt. What had, at first, been icy sheets of sparkling white had turned into ugly black slush that ran along every road, dripping down from whirling car tyres and splashing the melting pavements with mush. Edward decided he rather didn't like snow as much when it turned to this state. He trudged up the bridge he remembered tumbling over, taking care not to slip on the icy surface of the pavements. It was proving rather difficult and he could see the other pedestrians struggling to walk like him, making him glad he wasn't the only one moving like a drunk penguin.

Earlier that morning, he had finished the last book from a collection he bought online and once Mustang left for work, he quickly became bored of staying in the house again. Deciding to go out to alleviate his boredom, he took the time to change into the set of new clothes that Gracia Hughes had given him as another Christmas present. They were almost similar to the attire he always wore, comprising of a new black zipped jacket, black trousers and now, included in his collection was a black tank top. He was grateful for the change in clothes as his old ones had become frayed and torn at the edges over the last couple of months. After pulling on his favourite red coat and white gloves, Edward opened the door wide to welcome the days of the New Year and took a step outside into the wintry sun – only to have his foot land on a melting pile of black ice.

Right now, he had finished crossing the bridge successfully, although he had to hold onto the railings to avoid sliding down a particularly slippery solid sheet of ice. He was just making his way to the opposite street to head towards the direction of Rockbell FiXers when a lorry hurtled past, spraying him from head to toe with a giant wave of icy, black slush.

"_Hey!_" Edward squawked angrily, waving his fist at the lorry and began to shout abuse after it, ignoring the startled and uneasy looks from the other passing pedestrians. He shook the slush out of his hair and more dripped down onto his face, ruining his new clothes. He was going to have to clean himself up somewhere and there was no way he was climbing back up that bridge again to return home.

He found a plain and uninteresting café nearby and he stomped inside, dripping water onto the carpet and attracting a number of stares from the few customers dining there. He headed towards the Men's toilets where he was grateful for the ample rolls of tissue paper and working water taps. There was no one inside the toilets and no one came in while he cleaned himself up save for a sand-coloured folder tucked in the space between the mirror and a sink, looking as if someone had left it there and forgot to pick it up. Once Edward cleaned himself adequately and tossed the tissue roll into the bin, he approached the file and picked it up. Curiosity and recklessness urged him to peel open the folder and he read some of the words stamped across the first page in large, red letters:

**CCPD FILES: CONFIDENTIAL: #777**

**FOR INVESTIG. UNIT ONLY**

Before he could read the bottom words, there was a muffled crash as someone tripped over the bucket and mop placed outside and the door of the Men's toilets swung open. Edward quickly slammed the file shut as Denny Bloch staggered inside, dressed in a police officer uniform and looking panic-stricken, trailing water from his snow-covered shoes and supporting a large blue bruise on his chin. There were also bits of snow in his blonde hair. He swept his gaze over the area, his eyes eventually resting on Edward and the folder he held in his hands. The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed and Denny let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god," he gasped, sliding his way across the floor tiles towards Edward, his arms held out in gratitude. "Thank god it's still here, safe and sound." He suddenly stopped and stared hard at the persocom, his eyes widening slightly with recognition as he studied him up and down. "You're Edward," Denny exclaimed with a smile of surprise. "You're Edward, aren't you? Oh, hello! Remember me? Denny Bloch? We were, uh, invited to your Christmas party last year?"

"Yes, I remember you," Edward said, nodding affirmatively and there was really no need for Denny to reintroduce himself because Edward was excellent at recognising faces and names. He then held up the folder, which he was now certain belonged to the Central City Police Department. "I'm guessing this is yours?"

Denny gratefully took it from him. "Yes, yes it is," he confirmed and looked down at the folder. "Boy, if I'd lost this, Maria will _kill _me. Good thing I remembered when I was driving halfway to the station. Otherwise…" he trailed off and shuddered at the thought.

Noticing Denny's dishevelled appearance and wet uniform, Edward reached back to extract a roll of tissue paper, handing it to the man. Glad for the help, Denny began to clean himself up. "You looked like you crashed through a storm or something," Edward commented pointedly. "What's with that bruise there?"

"Oh, this?" said Denny, poking at the blue bruise on his chin and flinching in pain. "_Ow_, ah, yeah. I slipped on the ice when I parked my car and fell down. I'm okay though. Doesn't hurt all that much," he added, foolishly poking at the bruise again and flinching at the pain. The motion caused the folder to slide out of his arms and Edward caught it just before it fell to the ground. The front of the file opened again and he managed to see all the words on the front page:

**CCPD FILES: CONFIDENTIAL: #777**

**FOR INVESTIG. UNIT ONLY**

**SUBJECT: THE SEVEN SINS**

"Wow, nice reflexes," Denny praised, leaning down to take the folder out of Edward's hands. Edward straightened up, his eyes still fixed on the folder and felt curiosity burning intensely in his chest. _The Seven Sins_? It was all too tempting. He needed to know more. He lifted his gaze to meet Denny's.

"So, so the Seven Sins?" said Edward casually. He wanted to try a trick he had read from a detective novel. The trick, he remembered, was to play ignorant of the situation but recklessly provide the answers to the questions that you wanted answering. While doing so, your interviewee would feel compelled to correct your words, providing you with the right answers you required. "Is that like a fairy-tale story, 'The Seven Sins'? It _is, _isn't it? Because it sounds like one…"

"Of _course _not," answered Denny with a slight frown. "The Seven Sins are a _very_ secret crime syndicate. So secret in fact that no one dares to mention them." He suddenly paused, realising what he had just revealed and licked his lips nervously. "Um, I don't think Maria would like it if I told you about them…" he began but Edward merely ploughed right on.

"A crime syndicate?" he was saying, cutting the rest of Denny's words. "They sound pretty dangerous. Their boss must be a wanted man."

"No, no," Denny corrected again, the frown back on his face. "Not one boss. _Seven_! The reason why they're called the Seven Sins is because there are seven of them and each are only known by the names of the seven deadly sins of humankind."

Edward paused to recall what exactly the seven deadly sins were and easily got them all: Pride, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Greed and Sloth. So the people who ran this organization were only known by these names? Indeed, they seemed to be very secretive about their identities.

"What do they do?" Edward continued, wanting to know more. "Do they kill people?"

"It's possible," answered the oblivious Denny, who had already fallen deep into Edward's trap. "They do many things, run many operations. They're involved in all things like arms-smuggling, robberies, black market retailing, DVD and digital download piracy. You name it, they've done it. We've been trying to bring them down for years and years. They're very difficult to track because they're so big, they work in the shadows, they have thousands and thousands of people working under them and no one wants to talk. It's tough but…we'll get them someday." Denny smiled, looking optimistic at the thought.

"So how far in the case are you guys?" Edward asked. "I suppose you're keeping surveillance on their suspected hideouts?"

"Not exactly," Denny said, sighing wistfully. "The closest lead we've got is with the police department in South City. There have been reports of customised persocoms going missing lately. We think they were actually stolen."

"By the Sins?" said Edward in interest. His mind began quickly making connections: Customised persocoms stolen? Customised persocoms – like him?

"Could be one of their minor operations," chatted Denny thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin. "It wasn't obvious at first when the 'coms went missing. We just thought their owners lost them. It was only when a repair shop got broken into and a batch of customised persocoms were stolen that alarm bells started ringing at our end. We knew it was the work of the Sins. They control all the black-market retailing. It's possible that some of those stolen persocoms were sold off there."

Edward was staring widely at Denny, hardly believing what he was hearing. His mind was racing with sudden ideas, with possible notions relating to him. Mustang had told him before that he was distributed from a black-market and Edward was now sure that said market was associated with the Seven Sins. Could it be? That he was stolen from his original creator too?

"You mentioned South City," Edward croaked, excited at the discovery of a new lead in the mystery of his past. "Were these customised persocoms stolen from the shops there?"

"Oh no," Denny said with a shake of his head, causing drops of water that had melted from the specks of snow in his hair to splash onto Edward's face. "That would be in Rush Valley."

"Rush Valley?" Edward said, gasping.

"Yeah, Rush Valley."

_Rush Valley! _Edward thought with realisation and delight. _Of course! Why hadn't I thought of such an obvious place as that! _Rush Valley, also known as Persocom Haven, a paradise for persocom enthusiasts, the founding birthplace of persocom technology, the city where humans worshipped the persocom and mingled with them like equals. If there was one place for someone to find the inspiration, the expertise, the equipment and the relevant parts to build a persocom, then Rush Valley was no other place.

A second later, Edward and Denny both jumped when a shrill ringing tone resonated off the tiled walls of the Men's toilet. This time, Denny had a firm grip on the folder so it didn't slip out of his arm. However, when he fumbled for his mobile phone, it fell out of his grasp and Edward was quick enough to catch it in mid-air.

"Thanks," breathed Denny, taking back the phone. "Gosh, I need to learn how to do that." He answered it and Edward could hear Maria Ross's voice on the other line.

"Where on earth are you?" came Maria's muffled grumble.

"At a café… I was _hungry_," Denny added desperately when they heard Maria cluck disapprovingly down the phone.

"Is that case file still with you?" Maria asked sternly.

"Uh, yes, yes it is," Denny straightened the folder in his arms, pressing it close to his chest. "Don't worry. It's right here and it's safe."

"Don't forget to bring it with you to the station. I hope you weren't reading it carelessly at the café. Other people might read it. It's _confidential_ for a reason, Denny."

"Yeah, yes, I didn't read it. It's safe. Nobody knows about it," Denny stuttered, shooting a pleading look at Edward because he had already gone and disclosed the information to a third party. Edward felt guilty for tricking the poor man like this. He shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, absentmindedly rubbing on a stubborn stain that refused to fade on his coat. He heard Denny hang up the phone.

"Well, I've got to go now," Denny announced awkwardly, holding a palm up in farewell. "Urgent business, got to rush there. It was nice seeing you again, Edward. And, uh," he bent his head down and spoke in a quiet and desperate voice, "Please don't tell anyone else about the Seven Sins, okay? Maria would _skin _me if she found out."

Edward didn't reply but instead made a crossing motion over the left side of his chest with a forefinger, a gesture he had seen someone do on television, and Denny instantly understood and grinned with relief. "Thanks," he said, patting him on the shoulder, turning around to leave the Men's.

A second after Denny disappeared through the swinging door, there was another crash as he tripped over the bucket and mop he'd fallen over earlier, and Edward heard his mumbled apology of "Sorry! Sorry!" as the former stumbled away from the toilets and out of the café.

Edward turned to find his reflection looking back at him in the mirror. He saw the brightness in his eyes and the look of determination on his face. Inwardly, he was brimming with excitement.

"Rush Valley," he told his reflection and imagined it nodding back at him in finality.

**OoOoO**

"Rush Valley?" Roy said incredulously after he returned home from work to find Edward waiting for him at the kitchen table with a hot dinner ready for him to consume. He had not yet sat down to eat when Edward launched into a description of the findings of his day's events and the urgent request (or rather demand, more like) that they should not waste time and travel to Rush Valley at once.

"The important question is," Edward ignored the equally incredulous look Mustang was giving him that accompanied his incredulously-toned utterance. "Do you remember which black-market dealer you bought me from?"

"That's just it, I don't know," admitted Roy as he fell into consuming his dinner (beef casserole. It looked like Edward forgave the dish and decided to have another go at making it again). The casserole was delightfully spicy and Roy guessed that Edward must have added the extra spice that was not in the original list of ingredients in order to improve the overall flavour.

"You don't know?" Now it was Edward who sounded incredulous and he was giving Roy the deeply scrutinizing look again, as if Roy was somehow out of his mind. Half the time though, he thought he might be.

"I don't know," Roy mumbled again through a mouthful of buttered potatoes from a side dish nearby. He swallowed before continuing his answer, "My last persocom was the one who found the website. I imagine you make your order on a main central site but the actual products themselves would be distributed from different places around the country. If your theory fits, then it's possible you were sent from the South City faction and therefore, must have originated somewhere in that district."

"That settles it," Edward stated, the triumph apparent in his voice. "I could've been stolen from Rush Valley. We've got to go there."

Roy remained quiet as he took a long sip from his glass of milk, noticing from the corner of his eye that Edward was squirming at the sight of the liquid. He lowered his glass, wiping the milk off his upper lip with a napkin. Then he realised Edward remained unmoving because he was waiting expectantly for his answer.

"Right now?" Roy finally spoke. "Rush Valley? Right now?"

"Of course not right now, you _dummy_," Edward snapped but the insult came out half-heartedly, almost playful. "Maybe tomorrow or in a day or two. Whichever. The point is, we've got to go anytime _soon_."

Roy opened his mouth to speak and his words failed on his lips, "I ca–" He stopped and tried to think of a better way to say this without Edward misunderstanding the meaning but realised he couldn't find one. Sighing, he looked up at Edward, "The new year's just started," he tried to explain. "I'm not allowed to take leave this early."

His attempt was unsuccessful because Edward's eyebrow furrowed just slightly. "I thought you said you wanted to help me with things like this," he reminded him, his tone suddenly hard.

"Don't get me wrong, of _course_ I do," Roy shot back sharply, surprising Edward, and he slumped back in his seat, feeling all but helpless about his situation. _You _know _I do,_ he added quietly to himself.

Edward remained silent for a moment, pondering deeply about it as he tapped his metal finger on the table. "I could…go by myself," he suggested considerately. He sighed, "Look, I know your work is important to you so–"

"–There is no way I am letting you go alone," Roy cut in with a scoff, fixing Edward a stare and giving him a little shake of his head. "Besides," he added with a smile. "You _want _me to come with you."

"What the hell makes you say that?" Edward scoffed back.

"Why the hell are you even telling me all this in the first place?"

"Because you need to know."

"Because you need me to come with you."

Edward frowned, feeling anger bubbling underneath the surface again. He fought to control it. "If you're implying that I can't take care of myself–" he growled.

"I'm not, Edward," Roy answered earnestly, his expression stern. "Seriously, I'm not."

The sincerity in Mustang's words and his face were something so unexpected that Edward found himself rendered momentarily speechless. Mustang's eyes bore deeply into his, "If you ask me to come with you because you need my help, I'll do it. I will go."

They fell into a silence as they continued to look at each other, long and hard, a mutual understanding of unspoken thoughts passing between them. Edward had got it all wrong. Mustang was guaranteeing him his trust, his assertion to rely on him when Edward needed him most. Now, it was Edward's turn to guarantee him his. A few seconds later, Edward nodded approvingly, "So, what's the problem here?"

Roy frowned slightly and disapprovingly, as if Edward was a slow child (in fact he wasn't, Edward was brilliant, he was highly intelligent. It was only sometimes when he still acted like an annoying brat). "Didn't I say?" Roy said, exasperatedly. "I'm not allowed to ask for leave this early in the year. How am I going to pull this off without anyone reporting me gone?"

Edward hummed thoughtfully before meeting the other's gaze. A smile stretched across his lips, "I've got an idea."

**OoOoO**

_This is a _bad _idea, _Roy thought as he paced continuously around his office the next morning. _This is a bad idea. And this is not going to work. _How on earth could Edward think that such an idea would work? When he posed the question to the persocom yesterday evening, Edward had said, "Well, it worked in that TV show. The one about those alchemists looking for some stone. Nobody even noticed some of the characters switched places for a couple of episodes."

Roy had hissed, "Where on earth am I going to find someone to disguise themselves as me while I'm gone anyway?"

"You'll find someone," Edward had reassured. "Besides, everybody looks up to you in the office. Like that idiotic band of subordinates of yours. One of them could help you."

"Yeah, and if they did, they _are_ idiots after all," Roy muttered under his breath. There was only one major thing that prevented Edward's idea from working.

"Hawkeye," Roy had grimly pointed out. "She'll know at once. She'll see through the disguise. She'll hunt me down and possibly disable me permanently so that I could never leave the office again." _She also has a gun collection_, he added to himself.

Edward had merely gazed at him, his expression grave, "There's no other way. I think she needs to be in on the plan too."

"I don't think that's going to work," Roy had said unhappily.

"Then you need to _try,_" said Edward, his tone firm.

There was a series of slow knocks on the door, so soft that Roy almost didn't hear them. He stopped pacing immediately and croaked out, "Come in."

Jean Havoc sauntered slowly inside, his movements clumsy like an old man. He also looked rather poorly for his whole being wilted heavily, burdened by the mood of sorrow and despair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his drooping mouth, his head hanging low on his shoulders as he gingerly closed the door. A dark aura of gloom hung over his head like a cloud as he continued to stand there for a few seconds before he shuffled forwards in a daze, closer to Roy's desk. It looked like Havoc had yet to get over his failed New Year's date.

"You needed to see me?" Havoc droned nasally, his voice droopy as his shoulders.

"How are you?" Roy began conversationally, trying to keep the nervous tenor out of his voice. He knew it was a stupid question because Havoc lifted his head laboriously and blinked at him in an owlish manner.

"Fine," he automatically replied, stretching the word. Although it was very obvious that Havoc looked far from fine.

Roy swallowed as he continued to study the miserable Havoc. Why did he decided to share his plan with Havoc anyway? Usually if he had a secret to disclose, he would automatically turn to Hughes because they had been friends since they were children and were not afraid to confide in one another. Roy supposed that he picked Havoc because he was closer to him out of all his other subordinates. He had known Havoc since he first joined the company five years ago. Havoc had been his senior, the man who showed him the ropes, who told him the tricks of the trade. Once Roy had been promoted to department chief a few years later, he had been surprised to have Havoc working under him. In the subsequent months that they worked together, not once had Havoc harboured any ill feelings towards him. Well, apart from unintentionally stealing all his dates (it wasn't his fault really since the women Havoc dated kept throwing themselves at Roy's feet).

Now, his acquaintanceship with Havoc was about to be tested because Roy had a big favour to ask the man.

"I'm going to get straight to it," said Roy, his tone serious. He took a deep breath, "Can I trust you, Havoc?"

Havoc continued to blink owlishly at him, his face blank and difficult to read. Roy wasn't even sure if the other man was even conscious of his surroundings since he seemed dazed and out of it since his arrival into his office. Just when he thought that perhaps Havoc wasn't the right person to confide in after all, the blonde man opened his mouth and spoke soberly, "You want me to do something."

Roy looked at him in surprise. Perhaps Havoc wasn't as dazed as he first thought.

"Yes," Roy admitted, letting a speck of desperation show up on his face. "This is going to sound crazy."

"But…?" mumbled Havoc through heavily lidded eyes, as if he was ready to take in anything that Roy threw at him, however outrageous it sounded. Roy took another deep breath.

"I need you to cover for me," he said. "I need you to disguise yourself as me for a week. Just for a week, at least. I've got someplace important to go to and I don't want anyone to notice that I'm gone."

"Where are you going?" came Havoc's noncommittal grunt. Roy noticed his eyes looked a little more alert now and also a lot more wary.

"Rush Valley," Roy answered.

"Rush. Valley," Havoc repeated slowly, as if tasting the name in mouth. Then, his eyes widened dramatically and the unlit cigarette fell from his mouth and onto the carpeted floor. It seemed he had fully woken up. "Rush Valley. Rush _Valley_. You mean, 'Persocom Haven' Rush Valley? Why do you need to go to Rush Valley? Right now? At this time? You _can't_ take leave at this time. You can't get medical leave either. You've used yours up last year. Missed a whole bunch of days. You can't go."

"Which is _why _I'm asking you to help me," said Roy steadily, keeping his impatience in check. "You just need to be me. Put on a wig, sit down on my desk, sign some papers and just look cool. It's just for a week."

"If _I _become you then who will become me?" Havoc yelped, motioning towards himself with his hands. "I mean, I'm also an important part of your staff."

"Well, _I'm_ not allowed to get medical leave," said Roy as he folded his arms and sent the other a knowing look. "But _you _can. No offense but have you looked in the mirror lately?" Despite Roy's words, Havoc still looked slightly offended at being commented about his poor appearance and began to self-consciously straighten his collar. He had yet to notice the large coffee stains that were splashed along his sleeve.

"So you want me to take medical leave," said Havoc, his voice unsteady and strangely high-pitched. "So that I can dress myself up as you. For a week. While _you_ go to Rush Valley like it's a holiday."

"It's not for a holiday," Roy said insistently.

"Then what is it?"

"Never mind that," Roy said dismissingly and fixed Havoc a stare. "Will you do it?"

"Wait, wait. You can't just give me half the plan and expect me to go through with it," said Havoc, a note of sensibility in his voice. "Tell me more about this thing you're doing. Why do you need to go to Rush Valley?"

"Look, will you _do _it?" Roy had begun to lose his patience. He was also becoming very annoyed with how Havoc was acting right now. "If you can't do it, I'll just ask someone else."

His words made Havoc stare at him incredulously, as if the blonde man couldn't believe what he was actually hearing. "_Why _do you need to go to Rush Valley?" he continued to ask stubbornly. It seemed that Havoc's bad mood had made him bolder and more confrontational with him. This time, Roy just shook his head, refusing to answer. The less people knew about what he and Edward were doing, the better. Havoc must have seen Roy's own reluctance to confide in him and stood back a little, regarding him.

"Look, we've been friends for years," the blonde man began, his voice wavering but still strong. His fingers were twitching for another cigarette. "We've been good, haven't we? Maybe I got jealous sometimes because you're better with the ladies and you're able to afford better persocoms but in the end, I'm still okay with it. Because you know why? You deserve it. All of this. I mean, I told the other guys out there about you, you know? About how you worked really hard for this back when you just started here. Remember when you spent nights at the office without stopping? How you had to kiss ass just to get into the big guys' good books? You were the only one in our section who had the guts to take the risks when none of us could, the only one who gave us all a good name. I was glad we got to work together when you became department chief because I knew you were someone we could all trust. The guys out there? You know, Breda and Farman and Fuery? Those guys, they look up to you, they believe in you. I mean, _I _trust you, Roy." He then stared at Roy, his blue eyes unmoving. "But can you trust me too?"

A heavy silence descended upon the room after Havoc's unexpected outburst. Roy was speechless to answer not because he had no words at his disposal but because he wasn't sure where to start. He had been ignorant of everything, ignorant about the thoughts of his own subordinates, about how they really saw him, about how _he _saw them. Obtaining that important position of department chief had made him cocky, conceited and condescending of others. He would never had anticipated Havoc telling the others about how he once started just like them – a young, fresh and unexperienced employee, and about how he struggled and fought through the agony and pain of hard work in order to reach the position of department chief in a few short years. He had thought that the reason why they admired him so much was because they were just so easily impressed to the point that they were obedient enough to blindly follow his orders. No, they did so because they already knew what he was capable of, they knew of his abilities and the goodness he could bring to their department. They did it because they believed in him.

Roy wanted to laugh at his own stupidity, at his ignorance, at this amazing realisation. He was foolish to think that his closest subordinates – that Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Farman were idiots because they weren't idiots at all. They were _incredible_.

"Havoc," Roy finally said, looking at his dearly beloved subordinate with a new light, the man apart from Hughes whose faith in him continued to remain strong and unwavering. "You're right. You deserve to know. I'm going to Rush Valley because of Edward."

"_Edward_?" Havoc stared at him, looking a little confused before it turned into suspicion. "You aren't… going to sell him off, are you?" he continued in a quiet, incredulous voice.

"Absolutely _not_," Roy was appalled by the accusation. "The truth is, we may think Edward was stolen. I mean, he _is _custom-made, right? The BEAch model I ordered was not. So how come I was sent a custom-made persocom and not a factory-made one?"

"…You think Edward was stolen from Rush Valley," said Havoc, piecing Roy's words together. "What happens when you _do _find out where he was stolen from? Will you give him back?"

_Will you give him back?_

Roy's mouth went dry as a small shard of fear burrowed its way into his heart. The thought never crossed his mind once. He shook his head, dismissing it. "I don't know," he said offhandedly. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess."

"Is this going to be dangerous?" Havoc sighed worriedly. His fingers were twitching again, this time because he felt nervous with concern. "Is it also possibly going to involve something illegal?"

Roy chuckled half-heartedly, "Maybe."

"Better you than me, I suppose," Havoc grunted and reached into the front pocket of his shirt to pull out a new cigarette stick. He stuck it in his mouth, rolling it in his lips before rolling his own eyes in defeat at Roy's waiting gaze, "Okay, you got me, I'll do it. Maybe if I become you, I could probably score dates that _won't_ end up in disaster. I'm going to disguise myself as Roy Mustang for a week while he's gone and fool everyone, even– wait." He stopped and a frown of uncertainty crossed his face. "Wait, I can't fool Hawk–"

"No, you can't," said a stern, feminine voice.

Roy and Havoc jumped at the new voice, Havoc actually emitting a strangled half-scream before he covered his mouth with his hands to shut himself up. His new cigarette stick had fallen out of his mouth and rolled across the floor, stopping in front of Riza Hawkeye and Black Hayate. Roy was flabbergasted. How on earth did they not notice her enter the room? How much had she heard?

"Not everything," was her answer, as if she could hear the questions floating in their minds. "Mr. Havoc was saying he was going to disguise himself as you. You are about to go somewhere." Her red-brown eyes narrowed, "Explain."

"I was going to tell you anyway," Roy said, hoping his sincere tone would convince her that he was serious about disclosing his plans with her too. "I have to go to Rush Valley with Edward. We think he was stolen from there. It may be possible that he was created there as well. We have to find out if it's true."

"New Year," Hawkeye reminded, her tone cold and steely. "Bad timing."

"I know," said Roy desperately. "But this place we're going to, this thing that we're doing is important to Edward and I need to be there to help him out. It's only for a week and I asked Havoc to cover for me while I'm gone."

At the mention of Havoc's name, Hawkeye shot a glare at the blonde man who visibly shrunk back, as if burned by the intensity of her gaze.

"This company needs you," was all she said next but the rest of her words, although unspoken, were plain as day to Roy. She was also saying, _You've worked so hard for this. I agreed to support you. Don't you dare screw this up._

"I know," said Roy dejectedly, nodding his head. "Believe me, I know. I know that it's the New Year and a new start for all of us. I know that a lot of people will be looking up to us for ideas and new plans. I know that it's a bad time to leave my responsibilities at the office when everyone from this department is counting on me to be there. Believe me, I _know_," he said again. "But Edward needs me more."

The last sentence was uttered so softly that Havoc and Hawkeye had to lean in to hear his words. Roy sighed and said, "Look, I know… I know you think that I sometimes do things for kicks but I've never been so serious about this in my life. This thing… this is _big. _It's too big for me– It's not about…" he stopped because his words were not getting him anywhere. He swallowed hard and tried again in a quieter, steadier voice, "There are some things that are much more important than me. And this is one of them. I owe him this, I owe Edward this. He deserves it. He _needs _me." He stared intensely at the two people in the room with him, at Havoc and Hawkeye, a look of pure desperation on his face. "I need you two to understand this. _Please_."

The room became very quiet afterwards, with Havoc looking quite astonished at Roy's disorganised explanation and Hawkeye standing very still beside him, her face carefully blank. Roy was sure he had Havoc's cooperation but he was not sure when it came to Hawkeye. If Hawkeye disagreed and refused to help him, their entire plan was over before it could even start. As the seconds continued to tick by in silence, Roy was beginning to feel disheartened. He finally looked away.

"Only if," Hawkeye finally broke the silence with her words, delivered sharp like a knife through butter. "Only if you let me come with you."

Both Roy and Havoc turned to gape at her in disbelief. They couldn't believe what they were actually hearing.

"What?" Roy managed to say but it came out as a squeak.

"I won't not repeat myself, sir," said Hawkeye, her voice monotonous as usual. "I will travel with you to Rush Valley."

Roy was incredibly relieved that Hawkeye agreed to this plan but he also desperately wanted to tell her that he didn't need a babysitter, that she should trust him enough to handle this on his own and not get distracted in the way, that it would be impossible for Hawkeye to come with him as other people would also notice her absence in the office and she could get in trouble. Hawkeye seemed to have read his mind because, to their astonishment, her lips twitched upwards and she actually smiled.

Well, it was very close to a smile, even if it was only at the corners of her lips.

"I did promise that I will support you, sir," she said through her strange little smile. "Consider this a display of that support, and for my belief in your pursuit."

Roy wasn't sure if he should feel glad or uncomfortable for her involvement in his and Edward's subsequent journey. He was genuinely flattered that Hawkeye thought his "pursuit" was one non-work-related thing that she supported him with but at the same time, he felt uneasy about bringing her along. It was bad enough to have Hawkeye's watchful eye on you in the office from 9 to 5 five days every week but imagine having her sharp gaze on you 24/7. He sighed and decided to trust her in her decision. There were some things more important than him, he reminded himself. And they never knew, Hawkeye could be a big help in their enquiry.

"There's just one thing though," Roy pointed out. "Someone has to dress up as you while you're gone."

"I know," said Hawkeye and she nudged her head to the side where Black Hayate was standing obediently by the door. The persocom dog suddenly gave a very loud bark that was sharp and piercing like a gunshot. Roy and Havoc startled at the volume of the noise and to their shock, the door of Roy's office burst open and in tumbled a bundle of bodies that landed onto the carpet in a heap of muffled cries and groans. It was the rest of Roy's subordinates – Fuery, Farman and Breda. They had been listening in to their conversation all along.

"H-Hello sir," Fuery greeted with difficulty as he was sandwiched between the heavier bodies of Farman and Breda. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"We weren't listening in or anything," grunted Breda in denial, speaking to the curious Black Hayate who had wandered close to the pile of heaped bodies because his cheek was firmly pressed onto the ground.

"We could help you out, sir," offered Farman, who had no difficultly in speaking or moving at all as he was lying at the top of the pile. "Just tell us what we have to do."

Roy felt a rush of affection for the people who were now present in his office, for the loyalty they were showing him, for believing in him, but he was already getting tired of repeating himself.

"You tell them the plan," he said nonchalantly to Havoc and Hawkeye before he turned towards his desk. "I'm going to have a nap."

* * *

_**-End chapter-**_

* * *

**_NOTES:_**

I remember always leaving my own commentary about my writing after each chapter. I guess there's no reason not to continue the tradition. I must warn you though - four years on, I think I have a lot to say so brace yourselves for lengthy author notes. Of course, feel free to skip these. I believe I like leaving notes because I like sharing my thoughts with you. It's sort of like my own Chapter Review of this story. Anyway, let us begin.

One thing that is obvious about this chapter that maybe the amount of character reflection in it, particularly in Roy's case.

Then there is the new perspective in Roy and Ed's relationship. Looking back at their progress, you can see how far they've gone - from mutual strong dislike to learning to be tolerant of each other to the more paternal kind of relationship of parent/child. This of course escalates to both of them growing to care about one another, then a bucketful of angst and comfort and forgiveness, and soon comes the little spark hinting at romance in the form of a near-kiss during Christmas time. But of course, the seed is still small and hasn't yet grown but I hope you can see its repercussions on their relationship now (of course you do, you clever people): Edward has become jealous of a girl who has asked Roy out while Roy admits to himself that he can't live without Edward. However, their interactions seem much more milder now (Ed sharing his thoughts about his experiences similar to "being born" with Roy) but the old habits - like Roy teasing and Ed insulting him - still remain.

The final scene focuses on Roy's relationship with his subordinates. While glancing back at the previous chapters, particularly the earlier ones where I still had_ terrible_ writing, I portrayed Roy to be arrogant and had a penchant of impressing others while his subordinates were in turn easily impressed by him. I guess this chapter was written to honour them because they are really valuable characters who should be appreciated by both Roy and us, the Readers. Over the years, I've had a growing fondness for minor characters so I really couldn't help shifting some focus to our heroes' relationships with other minor characters. Here, I'm glad that Roy is compelled to ask for help from Havoc so he could disguise himself as him (again, remember in episode 46 I think when Havoc and Fuery disguised themselves as Roy and Hawkeye?) and in doing so, is forced to question his relationship with Havoc and the other subordinates and undergo this massively amazing realisation about himself. I also noticed I threw around a lot of ramblings about "trust" between Ed and Roy, Roy and Havoc/subordinates and Roy and Hawkeye because I am something of a sap with character relationships.

On another note, to those of you who still remember the FMA 2005 anime, in the hilarious episode 37, Roy Mustang sneaks out to go on a date with a flower girl called Grace, whom Havoc was trying to woo. She makes a mention in this chapter as Havoc's New Year's date. The other subordinates have placed bets on the outcome of this date and the results are reminiscent of the one made in episode 37, where Havoc tries to ask Armstrong's sister out and the others bet on its failure (only Fuery was the one who lost any money). Another allusion to the anime is Edward talking about some TV show, "the one with those alchemists looking for some stone". I don't think we need anymore explanation on that.

Plot-wise, Denny Bloch returns to give us another significant clue. I think I may have made him quite careless and oblivious in this chapter, having been tricked by Edward into disclosing confidential information (this questioning trick is one I shamelessly stole from BBC _Sherlock_). Oh, and look. The Homunculi have been given an honourable mention in this story as the criminal syndicate, _The Seven Sins_. Unfortunately, they won't play a major role in the plot of _mFM_ but we might be lucky to catch a glimpse of some of them. Stay tuned for that. But Denny does provide us with an important turn in this story in which our heroes journey outside their home in Central City to other parts in Amestris, beginning with Rush Valley!

Lastly, some general announcements about this story. Like I said, I can't promise you regular updates but I _will_ keep writing this story as much as I can for you all. The aspects that I use in the formation of this plot is based mostly from the FMA 2005 anime and maybe one or two from the mangaverse/FMA Brotherhood (this is because I haven't yet seen Brotherhood - oh ho, I know I should). I had also had to go back and change some things in the earlier chapters to suit the plot - one change being in the Prologue about the location of the Black Market Edward came from, and secondly, regarding Roy's age which I have upped to being in his thirties. I figured being 25 and a department chief is pretty unrealistic, even for him.

So I guess this is it for now. **I hoped you enjoyed this 12K-worded chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it and once again I would absolutely love to know your thoughts about it**. Your reviews do help me a lot as feedback is the fuel for the writer's soul after all. I guess I should leave with some questions for you to ponder: What will happen in Rush Valley? Will Edward find himself a rival for Roy's affections when Hawkeye joins their journey? Will Edward find out where he was once created? Will Roy consider the possibility that if he continues to help Edward in his search, he might end up losing Edward forever?

Until next time, take care.


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